White Blank Page
by normallyweirdm
Summary: Blaine Anderson is just a boy stuck counting down the days till he graduates high school and is able to escape his abusive father. That is, until the Hudmels enter his life, and offer him a home.
1. Tear Down the House

**Title: White Blank Page.**

**Summary: Blaine Anderson is just a boy stuck counting down the days till he graduates high school and is able to escape his abusive father. That is, until the Hudmels enter his life, and offer him a home.**

**Warnings: angst, lots of Blaine angst. Physical and verbal abuse to a minor. Language that in real life I don't condone the use of, but Mr. Anderson feels the need to say.**

**Rating: at the moment about pg-13.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of the songs or any of the characters used in this story.**

**Background Information: This fic takes place in the second season of Glee, right after Christmas. However, in this story Blaine and Kurt have never met. Neither boy has ever stepped foot into Dalton Academy.**

**Blaine has never gone to Dalton, because in this story his father would never give him that option. He goes to a public school, and is still being tormented by bullies daily, but that's the least of his problems. He's stuck living alone with an abusive father.**

**More on Kurt later ;P**

**Author's Note: Hello! ;D This is the first story I've written in a couple of years, so I'm a little rusty. But this idea has taken over my brain and I wanted to see if I could write it down—this first chapter was the result. I hope you will give it a shot.**

**Please feel free to leave me some criticism. I would really love to know what people think of this story. :D Enjoy!**

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><p>The house is quiet when Blaine wakes in the morning. He hums happily into his pillow, and burrows further into the blankets. There is no alarm clock beeping reminding him to get ready for another miserable day of school. No dad downstairs waiting to complain about something else he did wrong. Today is a good day.<p>

Blaine sticks his hand out toward the side table next to his bed, fumbling blindly for his phone that's charging. He glances at the time on the front once he is able to disconnect it from the cord. 10:30. This is the latest Blaine has gotten to sleep in since Christmas break began. He closes his eyes again, reveling in the peaceful morning. He has nine more days of freedom before school starts again, and only eight of those days are without his father hanging around the house, since he would be taking off from work on New Year's Day. Technically, his father is supposed to be off today too, since it is the day after Christmas, but no one in that office seems to care about the holidays all that much. Blaine knows that his father is one of the worst culprits, considering, Blaine found him on the phone talking business when he got home from King's Island last night.

Blaine cannot stop the wide smile that spreads across his face when he thinks about the show. Humming the first few notes of "Baby It's Cold Outside," he thinks about what it felt like being up there on that stage. Amazing. It was just amazing. He got such a thrill from performing in front of people who actually seemed to enjoy his singing. It's the only time he truly feels alive—like something else takes over his body and he just lives through the music. He had trouble keeping the smile off of his face when he got home to his father, who may have been lead to believe that Blaine was working at King's Island selling tickets to the park instead of as one of the performers in the Christmas Spectacular.

Saying that Mr. Anderson is not a fan of Blaine's "performance tendencies" is a huge understatement. Blaine learned long ago to keep that side of himself hidden-the side of Blaine that his father considers undoubtedly gay, and undeniably disappointing.

Sighing, Blaine disentangles himself from the sheets, and shuffles over to his closet to pick out some clothes. He might else well get showered and start his day. His father had actually given him 100 bucks for Christmas. Between that, and the money he got from King's Island, Blaine figures he could treat himself to a little shopping. There were still plenty of after-Christmas deals going on. He would just stop at the bank first and put at least half of the money into his account.

Blaine has had a savings account going for a couple of years now. His father started it when Blaine like 8 years old—around the time that more people started giving out money for his birthday or holidays instead of toys. It is probably the best thing that Mr. Anderson ever did for him. Blaine's not allowed to take any money out of the account until he is 18, but he can add to it whenever he wants. He started adding to it whenever he could, like after working odd jobs for some of the neighbors, or the few times that Dad would actually giving him an allowance.

Blaine has big plans—plans that require him having his own revenue source, which is why he tries to save as much money as he can.

He turns the knob on the shower to let the water heat up, and starts to undress. As he's turning to throw his clothes in the hamper, he catches his reflection in the mirror.

Blaine's side is a mess of yellows and blues from a bruise that is finally starting to heal—the result of Blaine slamming into the china cabinet the day he forgot to phone Dad to say he would be late for dinner since they scheduled some last minute rehearsals at King's Island. Raising his hand, he pokes at his side with one of his fingers, flinching when it makes contact with the discoloring area. Blaine's just glad he didn't break a rib. A trip to the hospital is not on Blaine's list of things to do over Christmas break.

Turning away from the mirror, he makes his way over to the shower and steps under the spray, letting the hot water warm his chilled body. It's a freezing morning in Ohio, about 20 degrees outside and not looking likely to warm up anytime soon.

He squirts some shampoo into the palm of his hand, and starts scrubbing the left over gel out of his curls. Maybe he will drive down to the nice outlets to do his shopping. They are only about an hour from home, and will probably have some awesome sales going on. There is a great little café in the plaza where he can have lunch, which has a killer cup of coffee and some of the best pastries ever. And there are still plenty of leftovers from the Christmas turkey and ham that can be heated up for dinner once he gets home. Blaine closes his eyes as he tips he head back under the water to rinse out the shampoo in his hair. It will be the perfect night to start up the fireplace, and watch movie on Pay per view after a long day of shopping.

If Blaine is really lucky he will get a call from his father at some point in the day saying that he wouldn't be home for dinner. Dad has been in an even worse mood than usual lately, coming home from work already raging and heading to the liquor cabinet before Blaine can even greet him hello. Blaine's pretty sure that there is something up at work—some type of deal-turned-sour causing havoc for his Dad, and leading him to be more on edge by the time he gets home to Blaine. Just have to take extra care to keep out of his hair until this all blows over, he thinks as he turns off the water. Maybe Dad will work late enough that I can just pretend I'm asleep when he gets home.

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><p>Blaine is obviously not lucky. His phone starts ringing just as he's walking out of Gap. He fumbles trying to get his phone out of his pants pocket while juggling his shopping bags. Blaine had scored some pretty good deals—a grey and blue striped sweater from Gap that was marked 75% off, some awesome ties and bowties along with two pairs of suspenders that could go with any of them, 2 pairs of shoes, and some Lucky jeans that he got for $17. His shopping high is immediately brought down once he sees his Dad's name glaring at him from his phone's screen. It falls even more when Dad tells him that he will be home for dinner at 7:30.<p>

Blaine sighs as he heads in the direction towards his car. It's almost five, and it would take him at least an hour to get home—maybe more if he gets caught in traffic. He knows better than to make Dad wait on him.

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><p>He pulls into the driveway at 6:15, and heads straight up to his room, carrying his purchases with him. He kicks off his shoes by the door, and takes off his coat and scarf piling them on the bed. Picking back up his packages that he placed on the floor, he walks over to open his closet door, and pushes them all towards the back. Dad may have given him the money for Christmas, but that does mean he will approve of what Blaine did with it. Blaine certainly does not feel like pushing his luck to find out.<p>

He makes his way back downstairs to work on dinner, but detours into the living room. God, it is freezing in this house. He rubs his hands up and down his arms trying to create some warmth as he glances out the frosty window at the dark sky. It is definitely a good night for a fire he thinks to himself as he walks towards the back porch to grab some of the wood. _Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful_, he sings while carrying the logs to the living room and over to the brick fireplace. He places the wood into it, and finds a lighter to start the fire.

_And since we no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let snow._

He keeps singing to himself as he goes to work on dinner, continuing a medley of Christmas songs as he places the leftovers into the oven to warm, and then moves on to setting the table.

He's singing the second verse of "Christmas Wrapping" when he finally has everything ready at the table. And just in perfect timing he thinks, hearing his Dad pull up not even a second after he places the dish of string beans on the table. Let us begin another joyous holiday night together.

He grabs his plate and starts scooping some food onto it, listening as Dad comes in through the front door. There's the sound of him scraping his shoes against the front rug, the sound of his keys falling into the basket on the little corner table by the front door, the sound of the door to the hall closet opening and closing as he hangs up his coat for the morning. Blaine places his own plate in front of his seat, and picks up his father's. Finally, there's the sound of the liquor cabinet opening, and the clinking of glasses as his father pours himself a drink.

His father walks in just as Blaine is lowering himself into his seat.

Grunting some sort of unintelligible greeting to Blaine, he sits down at the table, pulling out his blackberry to check for any messages that he might have gotten in the few minutes he's been home and not already attached to it. Blaine sighs and starts eating his dinner. This was nothing new. In fact it was pretty much how they ate dinner every night-every night for as long as Blaine can remember. When he was younger, he tried harder to make conversation, telling his father about school, and what he did that day. But the only thing it ever lead to was some sort of blow up from his father. And, well, Blaine didn't really mind the silence anymore. He just ate his dinner quickly, and stated cleanup right away, eager to get to his room where he could enjoy the night out from under the disapproving eyes of his father.

Blaine is cutting a piece of turkey when he feels his father's glaze on him. He looks up to find him staring, drink held firmly in his hand. It doesn't even look like he has started to eat yet. Blaine places his own fork and knife down next to his plate. He isn't really comfortable with the way his father is watching him.

"Is something wr..." he starts, but stops before he finishes his sentence. He shifts in his seat. His voice already sounds shaky. Dad hasn't even said a word to him yet, and he already sounds scared. Calm down Blaine, he thinks as he clears his throat to start again.

"Is everything okay with the food, Dad? Do you want something besides leftovers? I think we have some chicken in the fridge…" he trails off. His father is still just looking at him. Blaine's not even sure if he registered that he was talking to him.

But then suddenly his father looks away and takes a sip of his drink. "Food's fine."

He picks up his utensils and starts cutting off a piece of meat, bringing it up to his mouth. Blaine lets out the breath he didn't even realize he was holding, and does the same.

"Did you have to work today?"

Is Dad actually trying to start a conversation with him? This is so not part of their routine. Blaine stares at him a minute, hand raised with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"No," Blaine says, after a moment. "They actually don't need me any more, with the holidays over and all." He brings the fork the rest of the way to his mouth just as his father looks over at him again, chewing thoughtfully.

"Did you sell a lot of tickets?" Now it's Blaine's turn to stare at him for a minute.

Blaine hates lying to his father, he really does. But it's just so much easier this way. His father had told him last summer to get a job, claiming that some physical work wouldn't do him any harm. When Blaine found a job in one of the amusement parks as part of the entertainment daily show, he knew it wasn't quite the job his father had in mind, considering the fact that Blaine had been banned from doing any more of that musical nonsense, and was supposed to start focusing real careers choices. But the pay was good, and Blaine couldn't picture himself as some busboy, or even as one of the kids that worked the game booths throughout the park. Most importantly, he realized that his father would never actually check up on what he was doing, because his father just didn't really care that much about Blaine. He brought home his paycheck every week, slipped in a few horror stories about working at the dart booth every now and then (which were actual stories that had been told to him by the poor, sorry kid that did run the dart booth) and his father was never the wiser. Which was why when he got the gig at King's Island, Blaine never thought twice about taking it.

"Um yea, a lot of people came in with their families for the holidays. We had a good turn out all week."

"Did you run into anyone you know?" his father asks, as he raises his drink to his mouth again.

Blaine freezes. He doesn't really like where this conversation is going. His father has never had this many questions to ask him about work before. "Um, no."

"Hmm," his father just nods, staring off at something on the counter. Blaine narrows his eyes at his father, trying to figure out what is going on. But after a couple of minutes pass and his father still doesn't say anything else, Blaine forces himself to take another deep breath, focusing again on his dinner. Maybe Dad's just in the mood for a little talking. It wouldn't be that unusual he supposes. Every now and then they force themselves into a little awkward small talk. It's just the fact that it always leads to his Dad getting mad at something Blaine says that scares him.

"Do you remember Mr. Peterson?"

Blaine catches himself just before he rolls his eyes at the question. God, how can he ever forget Mr. Peterson? He works with his father, and is one of the most annoying guys Blaine has ever met.

Mr. Peterson is a nerd turned sleaze-ball. The type of person who tells the worst jokes ever known to man, and then proceeds to laugh the loudest at them. Also, he is constantly telling Blaine tips on how to score with the ladies. Even if Blaine was into "the ladies", he is pretty sure that no girl in their right mind would find these so called tips romantic. Especially since Blaine is sadly sure that Mr. Peterson's wife only married him because he makes a lot of money.

The most annoying thing about Mr. Peterson though? Kayla and Taylor, his two spoiled daughters. Blaine got stuck watching them at one of the offices parties last year after their parents just dumped them on him, not really caring that he wasn't actually there to babysit. They were about 8 or 9, and he spent the whole night listening to them complain about how their brand new iphones weren't the latest version, but that they were sure Daddy would get them the new one next week.

Blaine doesn't tell any of this to his father though.

"Yea, he has two girls right? Kayla and Taylor," he answers, not even looking up from his plate this time.

"He came into my office today. And you know he told me the _funniest _story," his father says, voice oozing sarcasm as he slams his glass back onto the table with much harder force than necessary.

Blaine glances up at his father slowly, and he nearly drops his fork when he finally looks him in the eye. Why didn't he notice how pissed he look before?

"R-really?"

"He said that he took his little girls to see the Christmas show at King's Island last night." His father's voice has this fake pleasant tone going, but Blaine can hear the deadly mocking underneath it. Blaine feels his stomach clench, and this time he really does drop his fork. It clangs loudly on the table in the silence, but his father doesn't even blink, just keeps staring right at Blaine. "He wanted to know why I never told that my kid was staring in the show."

Oh god, Blaine really should have seen this coming. Why the hell didn't he think of the fact that people he knew, people that his father knew, would probably go see the show. This was different then some gig at the summer theme park-this was the Christmas Spectacular; lots of people go to see it every year.

"Of course, I told him that he must be mistaken. My boy was working at the ticket booth. That's what he told me, looked me right in the eye and said that he got a job selling tickets down at King's Island, so Mr. Peterson must be mistaken, right Blaine?"

Blaine's heart is beating so fast he can't even think clearly enough to try and defend himself. He just keeps staring at his father with his mouth hanging open, and wondering how this all blew up in his face.

"But the thing is," his father continues, his voice losing that pleasant tone as it turns icy, making Blaine's stomach twist in a familiar way that means only bad things are about to happen. "I can't think of one reason why Mr. Peterson would lie about this. Except that maybe he's delusional. Is Mr. Peterson delusional, Blaine?"

Not seeing any way to get himself out of this, Blaine just shakes his head no.

"Excuse me? I asked you a question, Blaine," his father demands.

"No," he whispers, his voice barely audible in the deafening silence that followed. He closes his eyes, wishing that he could just disappear. Bang! His father hand slams down onto the table, making Blaine jump in his seat.

"Look at me when you answer!"

Blaine opens his eyes, and stares into the hard, cold face of his father. "N-no sir. Mr. Peterson is not delusional. He saw me in the show."

"So you lied to me! You sat here at this very table, looked me in the eye, and lied!"

Blaine feels the dread already coursing through his body. He needs to try to reason with his Dad before this gets out of hand.

"Dad. I'm…I'm sorry. But it was a really good job, and-and I knew that if I told that I was going to be singing you would have…"

"Enough!"

His father swipes his hand across the table, sending his plate and glass crashing into the counter. Blaine's first thought is to run, to grab his car keys, and-Shit! He left his keys in his jacket pocket, which is upstairs, sitting unhelpfully on his bed. He looks wistfully towards the door that leads to the staircase, just past his father's chair. Blaine doesn't even have socks on, so there is no way he is getting any where without his car.

"What else have you been lying to me about, Blaine?" he asks calmly, leveling Blaine with a steady gaze, like he didn't crash his plate onto the floor a moment ago. But Blaine can see the lines of tension coursing through his body that betray the calm tone. Staring at his father's clenched fist on the table, the fleeting thought of a calm before the storm crosses Blaine's mind.

"Nothing."

His father snorts.

"You had no problem lying straight to my face not even five minutes ago. I thought we had an agreement. I thought you were going to give up that all that nonsense. How the hell are you ever going to fix yourself, Blaine, if you aren't willing to do what it takes."

Blaine can hardly contain his own snort. Like his father should be the one talking about fixing oneself. Blaine wants so much to say something to him. To say that no matter how hard he tries, Blaine can never fix himself to his father's liking. That even if he never sang another song in his entire life, he still wouldn't be able to cure the gay in him.

All of the fight leaves him, however, the moment his father stands up from the table. Shrinking down in his seat, he prepares himself for a blow of some sort as his father stalks towards him. Maybe he still has a chance at making a run to his room.

"Clean that up." His father walks straight past him and into the other room. A moment later, Blaine can hear him opening the liquor cabinet again. What the hell? Dad walked right by him, and didn't even start screaming. The fact that his father hasn't exploded yet is not a promising sign for Blaine.

Blaine quickly gets to his feet. He grabs a couple of paper towels, the broom and dustpan. Not wasting any time, he kneels on the floor to clean up the mess his father has made. The faster he gets this done, the faster he can go up to his room and get out of here. He starts to pick up the pieces of glass, but has to stop because his hands are shaking too much. God, he just needs to get away from his father before he starts raging.

CRASH!

What the…? It sounds like something feel down the staircase. Blaine stands up, and walks out of the dining room. On the floor by the steps is Blaine's laptop. The front cover is hanging off, partially detached from the bottom. Blaine goes to pick it up, but has to dodge out of the way last minute as something else comes banging down the steps.

A crate is lying open on he floor, and there are magazine falling out of it—some scattered all down the steps and on the floor. Vogue. Blaine has kept that crate hidden under his bed with his ever-growing collection of Vogue magazines ever since the time his father had caught him reading one and Blaine was left watching with a split lip as his father tossed it in the recycling bin.

Suddenly clothes come flying down at Blaine. His clothes. All of Blaine's things are being thrown down the steps, which means….

A feeling of panic shoots through Blaine as he races up the stairs, dodging his alarm clock, and one of his new pairs of shoes. Reaching the top, he nearly runs right into his father, who is tossing his bag from the Gap down the steps.

"Dad, stop!" Blaine says, trying to get into his father path towards Blaine's room, but he just barrels past him. Having his father go through all his stuff will only lead to trouble.

"Why are you doing this?"

"How else am I supposed to find out what other things you've been hiding from me. And then after I find all of these little _goodies_ that you've been sneaking into this house behind my back, I'm disposing of it all."

"You're throwing out my stuff?" Blaine stares at his father incredulously. "You can't just get rid of all my things! Those are my clothes, Dad!"

His father is pulling his clothes out by the arm full, some of the hangers getting caught on the rail, but breaking under the force of Mr. Anderson's persistent tugging.

"Yes, Blaine, your clothes. The first thing that in here that need to go. I should just bring the hideous things downstairs and burn them."

He picks up one of Blaine's sweaters, the nice wool black and gray one with the big collar and a snowflake pattern on it. He holds it out at arms length with a look of disgust on his face.

"Who the hell wears things like this, Blaine? _This."_ He shakes the sweater at him for emphasis. "This makes you look like a faggot."

Flinching at the word, Blaine takes a step away from his father, folding his arms protectively around his sides.

"No wonder you're always getting the crap beat out of you at school when you're going around there dressed like this. Copying dressing tips from those stupid girl magazines you read, which I told you once before that I did not want to see that garbage in this house again!" His father pushes past him to the door, shoving into Blaine's shoulder on the way.

"Haven't we discussed this before?" Mr. Anderson demands.

Sure, if you want to call it a discussion, Blaine thinks to himself.

"Did you forget about the agreement we made last time?"

Blaine wishes he had; he wishes he could forget everything about that eventful weekend in his life. It had all started out so good, so hopeful for Blaine. He was 14, and going to his first big dance, the Sadie's Hawkins dance.

He remembers being so excited about it, even though him and Kyle Ford, the only other openly gay kid in the school, decided to go as just friends. But still, it was all so big in his mind. Blaine Anderson was going to a dance with a _boy._ Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who noticed this fact, and even more unfortunately he was the only person who was okay with it. He still feels the panic building up inside him whenever he starts to think about that night; he can still feel the jock's hands as they shoved him down onto the hard gravel outside the school, can still feel the sharp pain in his side as their shoes kicked at him relentlessly, can still feel the bubbling feeling of complete horror that spread as a numbness across he whole body as he realized that he could die out there in front of the school, and no one cared enough to help him. The feelings come back to him as if he were reliving that night every morning as he walks into school, every time he see one of those jocks walking down the halls, every time one of them slams him into a locker and every time one of his teachers turns a blind eye and lets them get away with it—because Blaine is gay, which just means that his life is going to suck.

But nothing that those jocks did that night even came close to comparing to what Blaine faced when he got home to his father. He remembers waking in the hospital to his grandfather and father talking about him.

"_He damn well got what he deserved Jack. He thinks he can just take another boy to a dance without there being ramifications. The kid needs to be taught a lesson. When are you going to show him some discipline? This is what you get for letting him carry on with this queer crap. You let him go around with his musicals, and his singing, and his crying. If you carried on like this when you were his age I would have damn well whipped you. I bet he gets this from that damn woman. That's what you get for marrying her kind, I suppose. But I'm telling you, you better act now; don't let this carry on any further. Crack down on the discipline-get the boy's hands dirty, and some him what some real hard work is. And get rid of all that garbage before it's too late and people start talking."_

His dad definitely took that advice to heart. The day Blaine got home from the hospital, his father proceeded to beat the living hell out of him, getting the point across that Blaine's behavior would not be tolerated in his home. The agreement was pretty much that Blaine was too give up all his "queer" stuff, or his father would beat the hell out of him again. It was also pretty clear that if his father caught him even looking at another boy again, he was dead meat.

Blaine snaps back to the present destruction taking place in his bedroom. He had tried really hard after that night to turn away from everything thing that he loved; he tried so painfully hard to bury that part of himself deep down inside, but he just couldn't do it. Instead, he got better at hiding the pieces of himself that his father disapproved of—like the crate of Vogue that had been hidden under his bed, or the collection of musicals tucked away in one of his bedside drawers.

But it's all over now; his father is uncovering all of his secrets as he continues to go through Blaine's room.

The problem is that Blaine realizes his mistake too late. His father has already emptied out most of his closet and brought it down to the living room until he could dispose of it properly, when Blaine really thinks about what his father is going to find in there.

Shit! No, no, no. He has to get his father away from the closet. Far away from that case, and those small boxes that Blaine had carefully tucked away in there years ago. Blaine rushes over to his father's side, and starts tugging on his shirt, trying to pull him out of the closet. If his father were to find those…

He knows the exact moment that his father's eyes fall onto the small black case. He can see the way his body freezes up, and can hear the little gasp of air that escapes his mouth, like someone punched him hard in the stomach.

Blaine hands quickly drop away from his father's shirt, as if it burned him. He backs away slowly, stumbling over some of the shirts on the floor that his father has dropped.

He knows at that exact moment that he is in so much deep trouble; he's a dead man.

This is going to be a long night.

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><p><strong>Well, so there is the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! I'd really love to hear what people think of it, so please review :)<strong>


	2. Head Full of Doubt

**Chapter 2: Head Full of Doubt **

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Glee or any of the characters used in this story. **

**Warnings: more Blaine angst, physical and verbal abuse, language **

**Author's Note: Thank you all so, so much for your kind reviews, and alerts. It really means a lot to me to know that people like this story! And it really inspires me to write more, I have so many ideas for this! **

**More back story that you should know: For this story, let's say that Blaine lives just outside West Lima, kinda on the border between Lima and whatever district he does live in, like maybe if he lived about 5 miles closer to West Lima he would have actually been in West Lima and would have gone to McKinley and all. **

**And since Blaine lives just outside West Lima, some of the things in Lima are actually pretty close to him, like maybe the hospital. So say that if for some reason Blaine had to go to the hospital, he would go there. Okay, is your brain confused now? **

**On with the story! **

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><p>He can't breathe. That's the only thought repeating in his mind. He cannot breath. No matter how hard Blaine tries, he's still left gasping for breath-something is keeping him from getting any air. He tries fruitlessly to get away from it, but it's like he's stuck to the ground.<p>

Blaine tries to move-move his hands to force away whatever is keeping him from getting oxygen, move his legs to kick at whatever is holding him to the floor.

But he _can't_, Blaine can't move. He's stuck frozen as something is choking the life out of him.

There's something closing in on him, moving towards him from all directions-he can_ feel_ it getting closer, until it's surrounding him on all sides.

Heat washes over him, intense suffocating heat. Blaine feels like he's burning up. Why is it so hot in here?

He quickly comes to the realization that he's surrounded by fire; it's everywhere, and getting closer to him with every passing second.

Terrified, he struggles to move again, trashing wildly against the floor, but something is holding him down. He tries to scream, but no sound comes out. The fire is getting closer, burning wildly all around him.

His father is there, Blaine realizes slowly. He can hear him laughing just over the roar of the fire-laughing at Blaine struggling uselessly against his grasp. It's his father who is holding him down, keeping him prison, as this hellfire burns brighter.

"Dad please," he begs. But his father just looks at him, harsh laughter leaking through his cold lips.

Blaine pushes up with all the force he can muster, only to cry out in pain as his father slams him back down, shaking his head slowly at Blaine. He can't escape him.

His icy gaze cuts right through Blaine as he stares into his eyes. Suddenly, his father is no longer on top of Blaine, but instead standing at the edge of the circle of fire. He doesn't even glance back as he walks through the flames, leaving Blaine alone ground, still unable to move.

"Dad!" Blaine tries to yell after him, but he's struggling to breath again as the flames dance even closer than before.

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><p>Blaine jumps awake with a gasping breath, which quickly turns into a round of coughs racking through his aching body. He leans back down into his pillows, shutting his eyes to the bright light. But something feels off to Blaine. It's not just the lingering terror of his nightmare. He's become so used to that since he usually has a lot of trouble sleeping-he's grown accustomed to the nightmares clouding his dreams while he sleeps. This isn't the first time he's woken up like this. Hell, it's not even the worst-he's woken up screaming or crying before. But this morning something is different, he feels <em>funny. <em>His body is hurting pretty much everywhere; he feels sore and achy to the point where he almost wishes he didn't have to move ever again. And his head is fuzzy, with his thoughts hazy and not making any sense yet. Not to mention that his bed feels different, with his pillows crinkling in a way that is unfamiliar, and his sheets not as soft as his used to.

God, he's thirsty. Blaine doesn't think his mouth has ever felt so dry before. And his throat feels sore-even trying to swallow hurts.

Then he hears the beeping. Blaine doesn't remember setting his alarm clock for this morning. Why does it sound so much quieter than usual? He doesn't even bother opening his eyes as he stretches his hand out to press the snooze button. He feels so tired, like he could fall back to sleep at any moment. Instead of finding his alarm clock, however, his hand makes contact with something else-which glides away from his touch almost as if it were on wheels.

Blaine doesn't have anything on wheels in his room, much less right next to his bed. His confusion only grows when he finally opens his eyes.

This is not his room. He doesn't even think that this is his house. Where the hell is he?

He feels can feel his breath quicken as the panic floods through him. He tries to sit up, but sharp pain washes through him immediately. His hands fly to cradle his stomach where the pain is most intense. That's when he notices the bandages wrapped around his hands. And the IV that is poking out of one them.

The list goes on as Blaine slowly realizes that there's another bandage wrapped all around his abdomen, and his can feel one taped onto his shoulder. Blaine's raises his eyebrows in confusion as he stares at his surroundings, flinching when that makes something on his forehead pull tight. He lifts his hands there to find another bandage. His thinks he can feel the tug of stitches.

The beeping sounds off again, and Blaine glances over to the side of his bed to see the monitor that he accidentally pushed away a few moments before, noting that his IV cord is attached to it.

Blaine understands that he's in the hospital as he glances around the room. But why? He can't seem to figure that part out. He can't recall coming to the hospital. He doesn't even remember how he got hurt in the first place.

He is just about to start seriously freaking out when the door to his room opens, and a young guy in scrubs strolls in, humming some unfamiliar tune to himself. He doesn't seem to notice right away that Blaine is awake as he flips through the chart that is hanging on the wall.

He looks like he's in his late 20's. He's tall; Blaine thinks that he must be at least 6' foot. Dark brown hair falls around his face, hitting right in the middle of his cheeks, which have a little bit of scruff on them.

Blaine tries to speak, but his mouth is just so dry that no sound comes out. Trying to clear his throat, Blaine accidentally starts himself on another coughing fit. He clutches his stomach again in pain. At least it gets the guy's attention. He turns to look at Blaine with a bright crooked smile.

"Oh hello there! See you've finally decided to wake up, sleepy head." His smile seems to be brightening with every word. Blaine can't decide yet if it is annoying.

"Hannah said you've been sleeping since you got here last night."

He must notice the look of confusion that crosses Blaine's face because he lets out a little chuckle as he walks over to a little white board hanging on the wall. Blaine notices that it reads "Your nurse today is:" in black letters with the word "Hannah" handwritten neatly next to in marker. The guy erases the word "Hannah," and uncaps a marker with his teeth. He holds the cap between his teeth as he writes "Joey" in a messy scrawl.

"But of course you wouldn't remember her. How could you since you've been asleep the whole time," Joey continues after he recaps the marker. "But she has to head home early today after she finishes up with a couple of other patients, so I will be taking over as your nurse for the rest of the day."

Blaine tries to speak again, but fails as the coughs come a new. Instantly, Joey is by his side with a cup of water.

"Easy there kid," he says as he helps Blaine raise the cup to his mouth. Blaine nearly moans in relief as the water soothes his burning throat.

"Where am I?" he manages to get out once the cup is empty. Geez, his voice sounds rough. Blaine isn't sure if it's from lack of use or what.

"3rd floor of the Sheppard Hospital, room 347," Joey answers as he flashes him another grin. "To be exact."

Sheppard Hospital? The one that is in Lima? It's not the hospital they usually go to. Every other time him or Dad required hospital attention, they drove the extra few miles to Carlson-Reed because Dad preferred it there. Blaine's pretty sure it's just because Carlson-Reed is the same hospital that his Dad has been going to since the day he was born. But Sheppard's was actually closer to them, which leads Blaine to wonder if maybe Dad wasn't in control of which hospital they were going to.

Speaking of, where is his father? Blaine quickly glances around the room, looking for any sign that his father is there, but the room looks empty-like no one had visited him at all.

Joey is now looking at the monitor which started beeping again. "Looks like it's time for a new IV."

"What's going on?" Blaine asks, watching Joey as he starts to switch out the IV bags.

"Well," Joey begins, not even looking up at Blaine. "All the medicine is in this bag here, and it's attached to that IV cord, which is hooked to that needle in the back of your hand. And the medicine moves throu…"

"No, no," Blaine quickly interrupts him. If it was any other time Blaine probably would have found the situation funny, because seriously the guy doesn't think Blaine understands how IVs work? He's starting to wonder if maybe this guy usually works with small children or something. It would probably explain his bubbling personality.

"I meant with me. What happened to me? Why am I here?"

Joey looks up at him then. "You mean you don't remember anything?"

Blaine just shakes his head.

Then he sees Joey's smile falter for the first time since he walked into Blaine's room. He quickly covers it up, but Blaine can tell that's he's faking it. He pulls a small flashlight out of his pocket, and clicks it on before shinning it into one of Blaine's eyes as he peers into them.

"What's your name?" Joey asks as he switches the light to the opposite eye.

"Blaine." He says without even thinking. He sees Joey relax a little.

"Okay, tell me what year we're in."

"2010," he answers, watching Joey's face for any sign that he may be mistaken, but Joey just nods.

"Do you know what day it is?"

Blaine pauses, realizing that he isn't exactly sure. Blaine tries to think back to the last thing he remembers doing, but comes up blank. Then, as Joey pulls back from his close examination of Blaine's eyes, he notices a candy cane sticking out of Joey's front t-shirt pocket. Right, Blaine thinks. Christmas. Wasn't that just yesterday?

"The day after Christmas?" Blaine asks, a little hesitation still coming through his voice.

Joey's crooked smile comes back full force, and Blaine sees the rest of the tension leave his body.

"Very close. Today's the 27th."

Blaine's brow furrows in confusion, how did he skip an entire day?

"But it's okay," Joey starts reassuringly. "It's not uncommon for people to forget things leading up to a head trauma. One day isn't so bad, and you probably will get your memories back once your head clears a little. I'd be more worried if you thought it was like 1998 or something."

But Blaine doesn't feel assured. He's doesn't like that a chunk of his time is missing, even if it is only one day.

He tries to go through Christmas day in his mind to see if it will help him jog his memory for yesterday. What did he do on Christmas day? Blaine closes his eyes to think. He remembers feeling happy, which in it self is unusual considering he would be stuck home with Dad all day. Only he wasn't stuck home. He came home in time to eat the dinner Dad left out for him, and go to bed. Images of King's Island flood through his mind. The Christmas show, he was performing at the park all day. He sighs because he can't remember anything past going to bed that night, and even that's a little hazy. He's surprised at the horrible pain that it brings to his abdomen again, and lets out a little gasp.

Joey looks over at him from where he is untangling the arm strap for the blood pressure machine.

"Your pain meds are probably wearing off, so just take it easy for a minute and try not to move too much. Don't want you to make those ribs flare up too much."

Blaine groans. He knows what the excruciating pain is now. He has broken a couple of ribs before, and they take forever to stop hurting.

"How many are broken?" He asks, as Joey fastens the strap securely around his arm.

"Your doctor is going to be coming in here to explain all your injuries to you. He should be walking in here any second actually." Joey glances at the door as if expecting it to open at that exact moment, before shrugging and looking the blood pressure machine. "Guess my psychic powers are failing me today."

Blaine tries to give him a small smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace because the strap is becoming uncomfortably tight around his arm. He's always hated these things, the tightening grip of it making him feel panicky.

"Too bad, maybe then you could what happened," Blaine tells him softly.

He earns another grin from Joey, who replies "Give yourself time, it'll clear up."

Blaine lets out a tiny little sigh, being more careful not to breathe too deeply and make his ribs hurt up again. He just wishes someone would explain to him how he got here.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you anything," Joey smiles at him apologetically. "But uh, one is broken," he whispers, conspiratorially.

Joey unfastens the strap around his arm, walking over to write down the numbers onto Blaine's chart.

"Do you know how I broke it?" Blaine asks hopefully.

Joey nods at him sheepishly, glancing at the door one more time.

"You fell down your staircase at home."

"I fell down the stairs." Blaine repeats, a little skeptically. Blaine's body is aching all over; he feels more like he got hit by a bus then like he fell down the steps.

Slowly, the idea forms in his head of what really happened, and he feels so stupid for not putting it together sooner. It wouldn't be the first time he's had to come to the hospital because of one his Dad rages. Everything is starting to make a little more sense.

Really Dad, he thinks to himself, way to be creative on your cover story. He wonders how his Dad was capable of convincing the doctor that Blaine just fell down the steps.

He wonders what he did wrong this time.

He's about to ask Joey if he knows anything else, when the door really does open, and in walks a man Blaine recognizes immediately. Dr. Chamberlain.

He's a client of his father's, and a big friend of the company. Blaine has met him numerous times at different parties and office functions. Not to mention that he has been Blaine's doctor on numerous occasions when he's been brought into the hospital. Blaine had forgotten that he moved into Lima last year, much to everybody's disapproval. He understands now exactly how his father can get away with this. Dr. Chamberlain will never say anything against his father, especially when it concerns Blaine. The doctor is not exactly the biggest fan of Blaine's. Most of dad's friends aren't. They most likely blame him for everything wrong in his father's life-it's not any different from Mr. Anderson's point of view.

It also doesn't help that Dr. Chamberlain is a jerk anyway.

"Ah, Mr. Anderson, how nice of you to join us in the land of the living again."

Dr. Chamberlain looks like he wants to be here as much as Blaine does. Blaine fakes a small smile. He knows that everything he says is going to be reported back to his father, meaning that he has to be on his best behavior.

Dr. Chamberlain grabs Blaine chart, and starts flipping through it. He snaps his fingers at Joey, who discreetly rolls his eyes at Blaine before stepping closer to the doctor. He opens his mouth to start speaking, but Dr. Chamberlain begins before he gets the chance to get any words out.

"Would you be a doll, and go get some fresh bandages for Mr. Anderson. Your nurse here is going to rewrap all your bandages after she dresses some of those burns and scraps. And then she'll bring you some more pain medicine."

Joey clears his throat. The doctor glances over at him, and Blaine sees the snide grin that appears across his face when his eyes land on Joey. He doesn't look the least bit apologetic when he comes face to face with guy instead of some girl.

"Right, sorry. I just saw the hair, and well assumed. Jared isn't it?"

"Joey."

If Joey is offended, it doesn't show on his face. Blaine has the feeling that he is used to working with Dr. Chamberlain.

"He woke up a few minutes ago, Doctor. I checked his vitals, his blood pressure w…"

"Yes, you've written it all here in the chart. I can read perfectly fine." Dr. Chamberlain dismisses him with a wave of his hand. Blaine has nearly forgotten how _much_ of a jerk he is. This time Blaine does see Joey narrow his eyes at the doctor, but only for a moment before he nods ands tells them he'd be right back, directly it mostly to Blaine with a reassuring smile.

As soon as the door closes behind him, the atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming more hostile. Dr. Chamberlain levels Blaine with a cold stare, and loses the slight pretense of pleasantness that had been in his demeanor earlier.

"You've certainly gotten yourself into a mess this time, haven't you?" He spits at Blaine as he steps closer to the bed. "First, you burn your house to the ground, and then you make a mess of yourself along the way. You're just lucky that you didn't kill your father in the process. Where would you be without him taking care of you?" The doctor continues on but Blaine is still stuck on the part of conversation where he mentioned something about his house burning to the ground.

"There was a fire?" He can't stop the words before they come out of his mouth.

The doctor gives him a dirty look for interrupting him, like he was just expecting Blaine to act difficult, before continuing.

"Yes, boy, a fire, that you started! Don't you pay attention to your father? I'm sure he's told you that you don't light a fireplace using charcoal lighter fluid because it usually leads to gas explodes which result in house fires. Costing your father thousands in house repairs. You should really learn to use that brain of yours, boy. It would save your father a lot of trouble."

But it doesn't make any sense. Blaine never starts the fireplace using anything other than old newspaper and a lighter. He's not even sure where Dad keeps the lighter fluid, since it's only used for the grill and Blaine is not allowed to touch that.

"And to make matter worse, you go and fall down the stairs. You knocked the back of your head pretty hard, and you've got a concussion. Seems you've lost some of your memory huh?"

Blaine just nods, his mind still trying to wrap around this new information.

"Well, those memories may or may not come back. I doubt that there will be any noticeable brain function damage, considering your level of function wasn't so high to begin with, anyway". Blaine colors at the doctor's words, but bites his tongue. He will let the guy insult him all he wants, he's already in enough trouble it seems.

"You broke your 4th rib on the left side, cracked the one underneath it, and bruised several of the others. The cut on your head required seven stitches in it, and you have two burns from where your shirt caught fire. Lucky for you, neither is very severe, barely even 2nd degree burns. All this because you couldn't listen to your father." He looks Blaine right in the eye as he says that last part, and he gets the feeling that Dr. Chamberlain is talking about more than just the fireplace. If only Blaine knew what it was.

"Who is fine by the way, not that you even asked."

Blaine breaks eye contact, and looks down at his hands. Guilt floods through him because the thought never crossed his mind to ask whether his father was okay, or lying in another room in his own hospitable bed.

"He had to go talk with some of the insurance people, and take care of some other things, but he should be back some time tonight. "

The doctor pauses in his scolding, and takes a deep breath. He seems to have gotten out all he felt he needed to say.

"Alright, boy, sit up and I'll take a look at some of these injuries."

The room starts spinning as soon as he moves, so it takes Blaine a couple of moments to pull himself into sitting position. The doctor checks his eyes with the flashlight again, and then makes Blaine follow his finger as he moves it from side to side, and up and down. Then he unwraps the bandages that wind around his stomach before checking out that area.

Blaine is still trying to piece together everything that happened the night before. He glances at the doctor, trying to decide if it is worth it to ask him for more information. It can't do any more damage he supposes.

"I can't remember," Blaine says, glancing down at his hands as they trace patterns on the bed. "What happened last night. Did my Dad tell you anything?"

It's quiet for a moment before the doctor's voice fills the room again

"According to your dad, you guys were just having a normal night at home."

Normal, Blaine thinks to himself, yeah right. He wonders what exactly the word "normal" means to his father.

"You had gotten the fireplace going before he came home, so he didn't realize your careless mistake in time to put it out. You both had dinner, and then went upstairs to your rooms. He believes that you must have gone back downstairs for something a little while later, and while you where down there noticed that the fire had spread into the living, but when you ran upstairs to try to warn him, you must have tripped at the top in your clumsy panic. He didn't even realize that there was a fire until it had gotten pretty bad, and he smelt the smoke. He found you lying at the bottom of the steps just as the firemen were breaking down the door. He tried to pull you out but the smoke got to him. The firemen wound up pulling you both out. Which is also when you got the burns-your shirtsleeve caught on fire as they were carrying you out, but they put it out quickly."

Blaine can't help but wonder which parts of that story are true and which are false. He knows that there really was a fire-it would explain his weird dream, but did he carelessly cause it? Blaine is always so cautious when it comes to things like that. And he isn't usually a clumsy person, so he doesn't understand how he just tripped going up the steps.

But then again, is it really that far-fetched? Blaine messes up all the time. Maybe he really did start that fire. And it wouldn't be that impossible to say that he would have panicked when he saw the fire, who wouldn't? So it could be very possible that in his haste to try to fix everything, he stumbled over his own feet and tumbled down the steps.

It still doesn't explain why he feels like he's been hit by a bus though. Not for the first time that day, Blaine desperately wishes he could just remember what went on the night before.

* * *

><p>Joey comes back into the room a couple of minutes after Dr. Chamberlain leaves. He has a small pushcart filled with medical supplies.<p>

Blaine hasn't moved from his sitting position. He's still un-bandaged, but has his hospital shirt back on.

"I hope Dr. Chamberlain wasn't too rough with you. He has the tendency to be a little difficult at times," Joey starts as he begins opening packages. "But he is a an excellent doctor, so you are in good hands with him. You should be out of here in no time."

Blaine just nods, because his head is feeling overloaded at the moment, and he really doesn't feel like talking.

"You must still be exhausted," Joey says.

And Blaine is. He feels like he could sleep for days and he would still be tired. He just feels so drained of energy.

Joey gives him a sympathetic smile. "We'll take care of this fast then, and I'll give you the rest of your pain meds, and let you sleep."

Joey keeps talking to him, as he slowly lifts the Band-Aid off of Blaine's forehead. He's telling him about how he had to steal the cart from one of the other nurses, who was taking too long to finish because the guy she was taking care of insisted on showing her pictures of his cat.

It's comforting in an odd way to Blaine. He doesn't spend a lot of just time talking to people, since he doesn't have any friends. Even when he was part of the Christmas show, he still felt like he was an outsider. Especially since every night he had to run home the instant rehearsal was over, and wasn't allowed to go out to dinner with the rest of the people, so that the next day he was left out of all the inside jokes they had formed. It doesn't usually bother him; he's grown used to the silence. But today Joey's chatter is a welcome distraction from his own head.

"I'm gonna have you stand up for a minute so I can rewrap your ribs," he says after he finishes cleaning the cut, and covers it with a fresh bandage.

Blaine nearly falls back down the moment he gets onto his feet. The room is swirling around him, and he feels a fresh wave of nausea wash over him. Joey directs him to hold onto the side of the bed.

The problem starts when Joey lifts his shirt and finally looks at his body. Blaine hears the sharp intake of breath, and feels the way Joey tenses up. Joey traces his hand lightly over Blaine side, and then raising his shirt up further, works his way up over his stomach and his chest before stopping his hands by his collarbone. Blaine glances down. There is not one trace of a smile left on Joey's face. His expression is completely serious as he takes his fingers up closer to Blaine neck before he presses down. Blaine lets out a hiss as pain flares up there. Joey looks up at him with wide eyes.

"You fell down the stairs."

It's not a question, more of a statement. Even though Joey still sounds calm, there's an edge underneath it that makes Blaine believe that it's a forced calm.

He doesn't know what exactly has Joey so freaked out because he can't see where he is looking, but he guesses it must look worse than Joey was expecting it to.

The room grows quiet except for the sound of wrappers opening, and Blaine misses Joey's calming voice. His thoughts are back into full swing, now wondering why Joey suddenly had a complete change in personality.

He looks like he's in deep thought, and the smile that seemed ever-present earlier still hasn't reappeared. He moves wordlessly onto the burns on Blaine's shoulder, and something makes him stop there too. Blaine almost misses the low curse that slips out from under his breath.

After he finishes with the burns, Joey helps get him back into sitting position, and hands him the pills.

"Alright kid, you're all set. There's a call button on the side of your bed that will connect you with the nurses station if you need anything, otherwise, I'll be back a little later to check on you."

He gives Blaine a small smile, but Blaine can see that something is missing from it. Joey's mind still seems to be preoccupied with whatever it was that he saw. He leaves Blaine's room in a hurry.

Blaine finds himself curious as to what had made Joey react like that. He wonders if there is a mirror in his bathroom that would allow him to check it out for himself. Maybe it would help him remember what had happened if he just saw whatever it was.

He slowly lowers his feet over the side of the bed, waiting a moment to catch his breath before cautiously putting his weight down on them. He catches himself right before he crumbles to the ground, gripping the side of the bed until he feels more stable. He grabs hold of the IV cart, and ever so slowly wheels it over to the bathroom that is attached to his room. He flips on the light and faces the mirror.

The bandage on his forehead doesn't surprise him, but the split lip and the dark bruise forming on his jaw does. He turns away from the mirror, and towards the handrail that's secured to the wall. He grabs onto it, steadying himself before he carefully moves to strip off his shirt, trying not to get it tangled in the wires. Even though he knows he isn't supposed to, Blaine unravels the bandage that winds around his stomach. When it's all finally off he turns back around lets out his own little gasp of surprise.

He looks like complete shit. His torso is just one enormous black and blue. Different shades of darks blues and purples cover the area, and Blaine can still point out the bruise on his side that was fading, since it's a yellowing color different then the rest.

What really catches him by surprise is the bruise that's forming at the base of his neck. Blaine takes a step closer to the mirror to examine it. This was the one that seemed to fascinate Joey the most, and once Blaine gets a good look at it he immediately understands why. Looking in the mirror, he can clearly make out the finger marks that cover his neck, almost as if someone had wrapped their hands around it. Blaine lets out a shaky breath as he raises his fingers to trace over the markings.

* * *

><p>Blaine hesitates only a moment longer, before his reflexes kick in. He scrambles up to his feet as fast as he can and flies out of his room, heading towards the staircase.<p>

He can hear his father bellowing his name behind him, but he ignores it. He needs to get as far away from him as he possibly can.

The pounding of feet can be heard following him down the stairs. Blaine picks up his pace, jumping off the last two steps, and over some of his belongings at the bottom.

"Blaine!"

He's almost to the front door.

"Blaine! Get back here!"

He rounds the corner to the front hallway, and the door is in his sight. He's just needs to get outside, shoes be damned.

He's about two feet away from it when he's suddenly being thrown into the side table by the door. A small sob escapes his lips because he was so close. He struggles against his father who is now on top of him. If he could just get out from under him he could still make it. Stars float into his vision when his father's fist connects with his jaw, but he doesn't stop trying to push him off. Dad is screaming at him the whole time.

"You ungrateful piece of shit! You had no right to bring that back into my house!"

Somehow he manages to wiggle his way out of his father grasp, and makes it to his feet. His hand is on the door handle when his father punches him in the side where he's already bruised from a couple of nights ago. Blaine doubles over in pain.

He yelps when his father tugs him backwards by a fistful of his hair, crashing Blaine into the closet door.

Then his hands are crushing around Blaine's throat, and it becomes a struggle for him just to take a breath.

"I used to debate, Blaine, over what the bigger failure of my life was, marrying that woman, or having you, but congratulations, tonight you've put yourself at the top of the list. You are the _biggest_ mistake of my life," his father spits into his face.

Panic kicks in as his father's hands get tighter around his throat. He brings his own hands up to clutch around his fathers, trying desperately to pull them away.

"Dad…I can't. Stop," he wheezes out, but the grip just grows more vice like. Blaine keeps clawing at them, trying to pry them away.

"Dad," he whispers his plea one more time as he starts to feel a little light-headed, and stops his attack at his father's hands.

As quickly as it had happened, Blaine suddenly finds himself being thrown back onto the ground.

"Worthless piece of crap."

* * *

><p>Blaine opens he eyes back up to the florescent-lit bathroom as the memory washes over him. He's gripping onto the sink as a sob racks through his body. He doesn't look back into the mirror as his wraps himself back up.<p>

He slowly makes his way over to his bed, and lets himself collapse into. The pain medicine is kicking in, and he feels sleep hovering, waiting to pull him back into oblivion. Blaine welcomes it.

The full memories of what happened last night still haven't returned to him, but Blaine isn't so sure he wants to remember any more.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter was planned out differently in my mind, but then when I started writing it, it took on a life of it's own. I hope you all like how it turned out! <strong>

**Please review and tell me what you thought of it! ;) **

**And next chapter, Blaine will remember more from his night with his father, and he will be meeting someone from the Hudmel family :P **


	3. Road Full of Promise

**Chapter 3: Road Full of Promise **

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Glee or any of the characters used in this story. **

**Warnings: more Blaine angst, physical and verbal abuse, language **

**Author's Note: Thank you all again for your wonderful reviews, and alerts! It means so much to me to hear your thoughts! ;) **

**Background information: for Carol. We have never actually been told what she dooes for a living in the show, I know that some people have the theory that she is nurse, and for the purposes of this story she is a nurse :p**

* * *

><p>Carol isn't sure what it is about the holidays that brings out all the craziness in the hospital, but every year it never fails. This time she thought she would have missed out on most of the madness.<p>

Having been at Sheppard's for over 17 years, and being one of the lead nurses on her floor, Carol got first dibs on holiday vacation time. And since it was her first Christmas with Burt and the boys together as a family, she took off all the days she could be spared from the hospital.

This year was amazing. They had such a good Christmas together, mostly sitting around as a family and enjoying everyone's company. She and Burt got to spend some good quality time alone together, exchanging their Christmas gifts for each other early over a romantic dinner while the boys were off with the glee club celebrating on Christmas Eve. Christmas day was of the best she's had in years. Even though the boys are practically adults now, and no longer believe in some of their old Christmas traditions, they still acted like five year olds on Christmas morning. Well, okay, maybe it was only Finn that acted like a five year old, tearing his presents open in a matter of seconds, and then spending the rest of the day playing his new video games. Carol can't help but laugh at the memory of Kurt watching Finn with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical look upon his face as he opened his own presents from his perch on the couch. But even Kurt got more excited when he opened some of his own presents—one's that Burt and Carol had put a lot of thought into making sure he would like.

But now it is back to work, and Carol feels as though the whole place has turned into disaster zone while she was gone. Everything is a mess. The charts aren't being filled out right, and there is no ink in the printers. Half of the carts are missing, and Joanne says that she's certain that the boy in 312 keeps stealing the spoons off the food trays. There's also an old milk cartoon that somebody forgot to take off the nurses desk days ago, and nobody had the bright idea to throw away, so now the whole desk smells like spoiled milk. And that's all within the first five minutes she walks through the doors. She knows that it's going to be a long day, but she's determined to make the most of it. She has the thoughts of going home to her family, and spending the evening with Burt to help her get through it.

After spraying the entire station desk with Febreze to try masking the rotten odor, she settles into her desk chair and starts going through the charts of some her patients.

"Did you have a good Christmas," Carol?" Hannah asks her, as she approaches the desk shifting through some of her own charts.

"Yes, it was wonderful." She smiles brightly over at the young girl. Hannah is one of her favorite coworkers. She had happily agreed to help cover most of Carol's shifts while she was off, saying that she would ever say no because Carol deserved it after working so hard.

"Thank you again for covering my shifts."

"No problem, it was your first Christmas as Mrs. Carol Hummel, how could I make you spend it slaving away here?" Hannah places the charts on Carol's desk. "And thank you for helping me out today. There's no way Joey would be able to take over all my patients by himself. He gets sidetracked enough by his own."

Joey is Carol's other favorite nurse. He is a complete sweetheart. When Hannah found out that she was accidentally scheduled to work a double shift that day, and couldn't find anybody to cover for her, he approached Carol with the idea to split up her patients between the two of them during their own shifts.

"It's the least I could do. Are you getting ready to head out?"

"Yep, I just have to fax this over to Mr. Robertson's office and I am out of here. Finally, sleep awaits me," she waves the form triumphantly in her hand, before taking off in the direction of the fax machine.

Carol continues to look through her charts. Looks like Mrs. Kingston went home, which makes Carol happy because she knows that the woman had been so upset at the thought of missing her first grandson's Christmas. Carol had promised her that she would get out in time to be there, and she's glad that she was right.

She gathers the rest of her charts, and gets up to start making her rounds. First up Charlie Turner, room 302. She opens his file as she walks to his room, and almost walks straight into Joey and Hannah who are talking in the hall. Or well arguing she quickly realizes.

"You can't tell me that you agree with that doctor!" Joey has his arms folded tightly across his chest, staring down indignantly at Hannah. Carol doesn't need three guesses to know which doctor has Joey riled up. She briefly wonders what the know-it-all doctor did this time to make Joey so mad. Joey was usually good at keeping his cool, not letting the man get under his skin.

"Joey, he's a doctor. He may not be the most pleasant man to be around, but he knows what he's doing." Hannah is trying to calm Joey down, but Carol can tell that she is quickly turning annoyed.

"What type of doctor looks at those injuries and just believes that the kid fell down a flight of stairs."

"I'm certain that Dr. Chamberlain has Blaine's best interest in mind. He's even friends with Jack." Joey raises an eyebrow at her.

"Mr. Anderson," she corrects quickly, noting the look of disbelief on his face.

"Jack." Joey repeated, glaring at her. "And what did _Jack_ have to say about all of this."

"What any normal father would, Joey. He was upset by what happened, and just wanted to make sure his son was alright. "

"What did he have to say about the bruise that is already a few days old, or the hand print on his arm." It is clear to Carol that Joey is getting more worked up by the second, and as a result Hannah is getting increasingly more defensive. It is what always happens between the two of them when they disagree on something; it quickly snowballs out of control until it is a huge all-out war between the two of them, neither being willing to take a step back and look at the other point of view.

Hannah moves her hands to hips, shooting Joey a death glare from underneath her eyelashes. "The bruise is from school, the kid gets bullied. Jac—Mr. Anderson says that he's talked to his teachers about it, but sometimes the kids still find ways to pick on him, and this time he got a bruise to show for it. The handprint is from when he tried to pull Blaine out of the fire. He was panicked trying to get his son out of there, like any good parent would be, and just held on a little to tightly. He felt horrible about it."

Joey snorts. "You have horrible taste in men, Hannah."

"Excuse me," Hannah's voice rises even louder. "What the hell does my taste in men, which is perfectly fine by the way, have anything to do with you jumping to conclusions."

"He flirted with you! That's how he got you into believing that this was all perfectly normal."

Hannah shakes her head, looking at him incredulously.

"He probably waltzed in here all charming, and so 'upset' by what happened, but all while reassuring you that it was alright to call him Jack."

The situation is quickly turning into a scene in the hallway, with some of the other nurses stopping to watch Joey and Hannah as they grow louder and louder. Carol feels like she has stepped into one of the episode of Grey's Anatomy that she sometimes watches with Kurt.

"Your just falling into the same old traps you always do!"

"No! _You _are just doing what you always do. Wasn't it just last month that you got yourself in trouble because little Harley Waltkins was being abused."

Joey turns a bright pink as he takes a step back from Hannah.

Joey is excellent with patients; it is one of the things that Carol most admires about him. He care about them way more than most other nurses, and gets attached to them quickly. He is always getting himself in trouble because of his tendency to get too involved in the family situation, and trying to help them sort out their problems. Which is why last month when eight-year old Harley Waltkins came in with a fractured wrist, claiming to Joey that his father hit him with a baseball bat, Joey had called the police before they even had a chance to ask the parents the whole story. As it turns out, Harley hadn't been lying, but he had failed to mention that they were in the middle of a little league baseball practice when it had happened, and that it was a complete accident.

The parents had gotten so offended by Joey's actions that they complained to anyone who would listen, and poor Joey had gotten yelled at for hours. Then he also had to face up to the residents and chief at the hospital. It didn't help that Joey's track record was filled with other times he had uninvitedly intervened in patient problems.

But Carol understands why Joey is so quick to take action. She would much rather have the situation checked out and find out she that she is wrong, then see a kid return to the hospital a couple of weeks later in worse shape. A child's safety isn't something she will take lightly.

"It's different this time. If you took a good look at that boy you would understand." but that is the wrong thing to say, because Hannah just becomes more defensive.

"I did look at him, I was with him all night. Everything is fine."

Joey opens his mouth to protest, but he seems more hesitant this time, giving Hannah the opportunity to dismiss the rest of the conversation and declare that she has won.

"I'm going home," Hannah says, wrapping her scarf around her neck, and rolling her eyes at Carol. "Make sure he doesn't call a hospital lock down because Mitchell is stealing spoons, and that obviously means he's planning something sinister."

Joey watches after her with his mouth still open. He stills look pretty torn up about the whole thing, and like he is trying to figure out where it all blew up in his face.

"Joey," Carol says, placing her hand on his arm lightly, and he seems to deflate as he realizes everyone is staring at him and whispering. Some of the other nurses still haven't let him let him live down the Harley incident, and she's sure that's it just going to start the jokes all over again. Joey seems to realize it too.

"I'm not jumping to conclusions, Carol, I swear. Blaine, this kid, he fell down a flight of stairs right, but he's gotten his got all these bruises. Which I mean would be totally normal, I agree with that, and I'll even accept the broken and bruised ribs, but he landed on his back. The bump on his head is on the back of his head. So why is all of his bruising on the front side of his body?"

"It could have just been the way he fell, maybe he hit some stairs on the way down."

Joey shakes his head. "Some of them were a couple of days old, and they're just conveniently from bullies?"

Carol shrugs. It wouldn't be to far off to believe. "Kids can be mean, Joey. It's not impossible that one of them shoved him too roughly and left a bruise." Her mind wanders to Kurt and the lockers slams that Burt says he endures almost daily. High school isn't always a friendly place she thought sadly.

"One of the bruises looked like someone had…." but he trails off. "You think I'm jumping to conclusions."

"Joey, what I most admire about you is the fact that care so deeply for every single patient that walks into this hospital, and you just want what's best for them. Sometimes, that makes you look for the danger in ever situation because you just want to make sure that they are safe. It's not a bad thing," she adds quickly as Joey's face falls. "I have the tendency so do the same thing. But accusing someone of abusing their child is serious, and you have to be sure."

"I just have a bad feeling about this one…something isn't right."

She can see the look of deep concern etching into every line on his face. This one really has him troubled. She has a feeling that there is something he is leaving out.

"Those bruises," she begins, "you started to describe them."

Joey nods. "Carol they loo-"

"Carol, these computers keep crashing," Mona's voice travels over from the nurse's station.

"Has anyone seen an extra boxes of gloves? No one restocked the supply selves," Rose says as she bustles past.

Carol looks back at Joey, who opens his mouth to speak again only to get cut off by Erin, who comes running down the hall.

"Somebody call down to the phone operator's and tell them to call a code elopement! Mr. Atkin's not in his room."

Joey and Carol's attention immediately shifts to the situation at hand. "That's the third time this week!" Joey mutters, disbelievingly.

Carol grabs his arm, "I promise I will come check it out after we have this all settled. But for now will you help Erin find Mr. Atkins. And Mona call IT! And rose check in the first drawer of my desk," she calls over her shoulder as she heads down one of the quieter hallways in search of their missing patient.

The holidays really do bring out the chaos.

* * *

><p>It isn't until almost lunchtime that Carol has a moment to breathe again. She collapses into her desk chair and rests her head in her hands. What a morning. They found Mr. Atkins wandering around the second floor, and no one is quite sure how he got there.<p>

"Hey Carol," Joey says approaching her with one of the food carts. "Do you think that maybe you could take this to room 347, and maybe check out the kid while you are in there?" She can tell that Joey hasn't stopped thinking about that boy since the morning. Whatever he saw really has him shaken up.

She agrees, and pushes the cart down the hallway to the room. She's hoping that she can put Joey's mind at ease after this. She knocks on the door when she reaches it, and after a moment without any response she opens it, pushing the food cart through.

The room is quiet. No TV on like in some of the other patients' rooms. There aren't any gifts or cards lying around. It doesn't even look like anyone has been up in the room to visit the boy in a while. She wonders where his dad is. It's a little strange that he left his 16 year-old son alone in the hospital all morning.

Her eyes travel over to the bed where she sees a sleeping form. She can just make out a mess of dark hair above the blankets. She walks over to the chart on the wall, reading over Blaine's injuries.

A concussion, a broken rib, a cracked rib, multiple bruisings, and small cuts and burns. A small whimper from the bed directs her attention back to the boy.

"Blaine?" she calls out quietly, "are you awake?"

He doesn't answer her, but after a moment of silence she hears him let out another small whimper. She walks over to the bed. His face is scrunched up in a look of worry, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. His breaths are coming out fast and shallow. She's pretty sure he's having a nightmare.

"Blaine." she tries again, speaking softly as she tries to rouse him from his fitful slumber.

He trashes a little on the bed, his head swinging fast from side to side. He lets out another strangled noise, this one sounding closer to some sort of sob. Carol doesn't want Blaine to injure himself any more, so she calls out to him again and reaches her hand out to shake his shoulder.

His reaction is immediate, jumping straight up in the bed and pulling away from her the moment her hand makes contact with his shoulder. He startles himself as much as he startles her, both of them taking in a surprised, sharp gasp. He stares at her with wild eyes for a moment, still keeping as much distance as possible between them, while his hands unconsciously move to cradle his injuries.

He seems to be trying to place her in his mind. She's still coming down from her shock of panic, and lets out a nervous laugh under his scrutinous gaze.

"I didn't mean to scare you Blaine," she says, apologetically. He nods slowly, looking cautiously around the room for a moment, and she notices the way he relaxes a little as he starts to remember where he is.

"My name is Carol. I'm one of the nurses here. I brought you lunch." She motions over to the abandoned cart by the door. He glances over to it quickly, before he lets his eyes linger around the room again. She waits patiently, allowing him to calm himself down and get his thoughts in order. His eyes fall on her again, and he gives her a confused stare.

"What happened to Joey? He sai—I thought he was my nurse." His voice comes out quiet and unsure, just a rough murmur traveling through the quiet room, almost like he's afraid to ask her.

"He had to help me with a few other things. It's been a crazy day for us here." She smiles at him reassuringly. "He'll be back later to check on you."

He nods again, but he still seems like he's preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Carol studies his face for a moment. He's a handsome boy, even with the bruise jarring out on his too pale skin. He has dark brown hair that is sticking up in all directions, but it looks sweet with the look of confusion that is gracing his face at the moment. He looks like such a little boy, as he raises a hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes, even though Carol knows he's about the same age as her boys.

Moving himself to sit back in the bed, he lets out a small hiss.

"Those ribs still giving you grief?"

"It's not too bad." But as he continues to shift, he closes his eyes tightly in pain. Her hands move of their own accord to try and help him position himself carefully without causing too much pain. Once again the moment her hands touch him, he tenses and pulls back slightly, just out of reach. She lets her hands fall to her side, and studies him.

Feeling her eyes on him, he takes a deep breath, as if to force himself to relax. And it work. She watches as the tension leaves his shoulders, and his face eases into a look of calm. She would have been convinced he was completely relaxed, if she didn't notice the slight tremor to his hand as he raises it up to run through his hair, and the slightly guarded way in which he still holds himself.

"Sorry. I think I was having a nightmare. I guess my memories of the fire are trying to make themselves known."

"That's okay." she takes a step away from him, and towards the trays of food. She's beginning to see why Joey might be concerned. Blaine's reactions to her are definitely ones that raise questions in her mind.

She's pulling the food tray over to the side of the bed when Blaine speaks up again.

"I-I'm not really hungry." He's staring at the food with a look of revolution written all over his face, and Carol's positive it has to do with more than just the idea of eating hospital food. Blaine is turning greener with every passing second, and she can make out a slight sheen of sweat coating his forehead.

"Blaine? Do you feel sick, honey?"

Blaine's nod is almost imperceptible, but Carol is by his side in a moment with a trashcan. Blaine's really just dry heaving, but each cough makes him groan out in pain and wrap his arm tighter around his ribs. Looking down towards his hands leads her to notices that his bandages have come loose from where they were securing his ribs in place. It gives her the perfect excuse to inspect the bruises Joey was talking about.

After a couple of minutes pass, and Blaine is no longer coughing up what little remains were in his stomach, he lies back down. She walks over to sink to wet a cold washcloth, and hands it over to him.

"Sorry," he whispers so softly that Carol almost doesn't hear his words.

"You have nothing to apologize for Blaine. Your painkillers are probably making your stomach sick. It's not your fault." His eyes crack open at her words, and Carol feels her heart constrict in her chest because she sees such torment and guilt flooding through those hazel eyes.

He opens his mouth as if to speak but quickly shuts it, as if he seems to think better of it.

"I'm not exactly sure that's what the police report says," he decides on finally, his voice coming out slightly wry, and self-degrading at the same time. His eyes lock onto her again, and he gives her a small tentative smile, as if to say that he is only joking. Somehow, she knows he's really speaking what he feels is the truth. Staring into those eyes again, she quickly realizes what really scares her—makes her believe that unfortunately Joey is spot on with his accusations.

Even though his face is twisted into a grin, it doesn't reach his eyes. Instead, they just look dull, and dead. Those eyes staring into her own are lifeless—not the way a sixteen year-old's eyes should be. This boy looks like he's been through hell, and has come out of it defeated and broken.

She feels the fluttering of her heart speeding up in her chest. She has the unsinkable feeling that she knows what she's going to find when she examines Blaine's injuries—the proof that Joey is not mistaken on the fact that this kid isn't only suffering from a tumble down the steps.

She almost doesn't want to look, and desperately wishes that when she does, she discovers that she and Joey have been terribly mistaken.

"Blaine," she starts, drawing in a deep breath so that her voice doesn't betray her fears. "Do you mind if I take a look at your injuries real fast."

He looks at her again, the false smile dropping instantly. His voice is guarded and careful as he says, "Joey just did."

"It looks like your wrappings have come undone. They'll be no help to you if they aren't done up right. Do you mind if I redo them for you."

His eyes guiltily drop down to look at the bandages, the edges of which are hanging loosely from the bottom of his shirt. He doesn't speak again, but seems resigned to the fact that he can't get away from her having to see what's hidden under his shirt. He swings his feet slowly to the edge of the bed, and Carol helps him stand up. He sways on his feet for a moment, but steadies himself quickly, hands grasping onto the rail on the side of the bed.

He lets her lift his shirt up without any compliant, but she can feel his steady gaze on her, watching her as she starts to unravel the bandages. He turns his face away, his gaze focusing on the door when she gets down to the last layer. Finally, the only thing in her vision is Blaine uncovered skin.

She stares at the bruises decorating his entire stomach. They travel up to his ribs, and even up higher disappearing under his shirt that is tucked up under his arms. She doesn't touch them, not wanting to hurt Blaine, but lets her eyes keep lingering over them, taking in every color, every scratch, every mark that is glaringly so shockingly from his pale skin. She notices the older bruise that Joey was talking about running over his side. Blaine must have noticed her gaze on that one, cause a moment later his soft voice is startling her out of her thoughts.

"That one is a couple of days old. Some kids at school." He shrugs nonchalantly. She stares up at him, and hopes that her face is as schooled as she is trying to make it. Blaine doesn't make any effort to convince her more, so she guesses that he can't distinguish the doubt she feels at his story.

Blaine's shirt is pulled at a funny angle, half caught on his arm. It pulls down awkwardly across his shoulder, revealing the skin at the base of his neck. Carol can vaguely make out some more bruising hidden there.

"Would you mind if we take your shirt off, Blaine?" He becomes completely still underneath her leveling gaze. Carl wonders if Blaine remembers more than he is letting on. Judging by his reaction, there are some markings that he doesn't want her to see.

He bites his bottom lip for a moment, and he seems to be debating his options in his mind. He glances back down at Carol questioningly.

"It would just be easier for me without your shirt in the way, she explains as lightly as she can. She's determined not to let him know what she's thinking. She doesn't want Blaine to start freaking out, and she can already tell that his breathing has started to quicken.

After a moment, he starts to pull his hands out from the sleeves of his shirt. Carol lets her gaze drop back down to his ribs, not yet focusing onto to the bruises she really wants to see. Instead, she starts wrapping Blaine's ribs, starting at his lower abdomen and working her way up. She wants to let both her and Blaine calm down before she sees whatever it is that he is desperate to hide.

"These kids she starts at school, do they make it a habit of sending you home with bruises?"

Blaine hums in agreement.

"I'm not really the most popular kid at school." He states as simply as a fact, like its something he's just accepted as part of who he is. He doesn't elaborate any more on the subject, just lets the silence settle around them again.

She tries again to get him comfortable talking to her, so she settles on the age old question of what Blaine likes to do in his spare time. But Blaine doesn't seem pleased with this question at all. In fact, it makes him squirm under her careful hands.

"Just the typical stuff I guess."

"Do you like sports? My husband and my one son love sports. There's always a game on at our house."

Blaine nods. "What teams do they like?"

He seems more content to let her do the talking, so she tells him a little about Finn and Burt, throwing in some funny stories about Finn being on different sports teams growing up. It seems to help put him at ease, so she continues talking all while slowly working her way up his body, discreetly memorizing each and every bruise she finds. She prides herself with the fact that her voice never wavers—not even when she finally gets a good look at his neck, and her heart suddenly drops down to her stomach.

It takes every ounce of her strength not to gasp out loud when she realizes that the markings form a handprint around his neck. She only pauses in her retelling of the time Finn was six and ran along the bases during little league in the wrong direction for a moment. She tries to shallow down the lump that is forming in her throat. Thankfully, Blaine doesn't notice the way her hands tremble in rage. She doesn't need any more proof to believe what Joey is saying. There is no way Blaine got all these from falling down a flight of steps. She just can't believe that someone would do this to their own son. No matter what Finn did she could never imagine ever laying a finger on him. And she would more likely believe the idea that pigs could fly than the idea of Burt ever hurting Kurt.

"Okay Blaine," she says, giving him a small smile as she helps him pull his shirt back down. "All done."

She helps him get back into bed, and pulls the blankets over him, tucking him in much like she used to when Finn was little and sick. Blaine still looks horribly pale, and she can't stop herself from bringing a hand up to his forehead to feel for a fever, then letting it brush back gently into his hair. That is the moment that Carol feels her heart officially break, because Blaine looks so unsure of that simple gesture, his eyes wide and watching her in utter confusion, almost like no one has ever touched him so kindly before.

She clears her throat and quickly looks away. She didn't want Blaine to realize that her eyes had started to get watery. "We'll try eating again in a little while okay. But I'm leaving this water here so be sure to try to get some of that down."

He is staring unfocusedly at the wall as she turns towards the door, lost inside his own head.

"Carol," the word comes out small and hesitant. She turns back around to face him. He is looking at her and biting his lip.

"I'm fine. Really."

She isn't sure why he is telling her this. She wonders if he knows what she is thinking, and if he is trying to convince her that nothing was wrong. She thinks that maybe he is trying to convince himself.

"You're sure, Blaine?"

He nods. "Positive."

And he smiles at her a little bigger than before, in a way that is supposed to be reassuring. If she hadn't been watching for the light that never comes to his eyes, she thinks it could have been cause Blaine certainly is charming. If Joey's words were true, she guesses that it is something he learned from his father.

"Well, good. I'm glad to here that," she says before turning back to the door and walking out. She nearly walks into Joey, who is hovering right outside the doorway.

She doesn't say anything; she doesn't have to. It's written all over her face. Joey looks at her for a moment before running a hand through his hair and muttering, "Shit. I'm calling Child Services." He quickly jogs over to the nurse's station. Carol glances back through the window into Blaine's room, eyes lingering on the boy who seems so small and fragile in that big hospital bed, before following after him. She knew right then that she would do anything she could to help this boy.

* * *

><p>Blaine lets out a shuttering breath when he hears the door click closed behind Carol. He needs to get a better handle over himself.<p>

He closes his eyes, and lets himself drown in his thoughts of everything that had just happened.

He had been having that same nightmare again—being trapped to floor as fire kept coming closer towards him, and his father's laughter echoing throughout the room. Only this time, his father wasn't the only one in the room. He swore that he saw a woman standing in the depths of that circling fire—somehow Blaine knows that it was supposed to be his mother.

And then Blaine had heard a soft voice gently calling out his name, and he had desperately thought that it was her voice calling him to come with her. When Blaine had awoken, he had really thought for a split second that she was going to be standing beside him. But that was stupid he realizes mentally berating himself. She hasn't been around in a long time. Still, he couldn't stop the little wave of disappoint that crashed through him when he opened his eyes to find Carol there instead.

Carol. She was nice, and she hadn't reacted the way Joey did when she got a look at his bruises. He wonders if maybe Dr. Chamberlain has them all blackmailed into keeping their mouths shut about his situation.

But Blaine thinks back to the way she had touched his forehead, in such a motherly gesture. Blaine somehow isn't convinced that she won't say anything.

Blaine silently wishes that she would keep quiet about it. He can take care of himself. There's only two and a half years left until graduation, until he's free. Blaine has enough money saved up that the moment after he gets that diploma he's leaving Lima, getting as far away from his dad as he possibly can. He doesn't need anything messing with his plans.

He has a bad feeling that if Carol or Joey try to bring attention to the matter, or anger his Dad in anyway, it will only leave him with the dark promise of bad things to come.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you guys didn't mind Carol's point of view. I felt it was really important to show her side of things to help explain how Blaine is going to become involved with them. I know this chapter wasn't as intense as the last 2, but the next one is going to have a lot going on.<strong>

**Be prepared for Blaine to finally remember everything that happened that night, to have a confrontation with his father, and to reveal more about his mother. And of course, we will finally get to see what was in that black case :D And in even more exciting news, the chapter after the next one (so chapter 5) will finally have Kurt in it! I hope you are all excited about that, I sure am ;P I can't wait to write some Kurt/Blaine scenes! **

**Please review and tell me what you thought of the chapter :}**


	4. Incomplete and Insecure, Part A

**Chapter 4: Incomplete and Insecure, Part A **

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Glee or any of the characters used in this story. **

**Warnings: more Blaine angst, physical and verbal abuse, language **

**Author's Note: I am still blown away by the response to this! I am so glad that you guys are enjoying it so far! Thank you all for your reviews and alerts! :P **

**Sorry this took so long to get out, but you know how Real Life can be sometimes. I had to break this chapter into 2 parts because otherwise it would have been super long.**

* * *

><p>Blaine was barely five when his mother left. He doesn't really remember much about it-doesn't really remember much about her.<p>

What he does remember more clearly is the day she was suddenly not in his life anymore-waking up one morning to find her already gone. That memory is so burned into his mind that he will never be able to forget it, will never be released from remembering what it feels like to be abandoned.

He remembers scrambling quickly into his parents room the moment he awoke, planning on climbing under the soft, warm covers with his mother until she got up to bring him downstairs for breakfast. Instead, he finds his father sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching a piece of paper tightly in his large hands as he stares blankly out at the wall. The sight has Blaine skidding to a halt at the bedroom door, somehow already knowing that something was wrong.

"Where's Mommy?" Blaine asks, peering around his father's figure to see if she is still hiding under the blankets. But she is not there. He looks back out the door, trying to listen closely for signs of her in the bathroom, or down in the kitchen already cracking an egg into the bowl of pancake batter. His father doesn't seem to have heard him, so Blaine hesitantly walks over and pulls on his pants leg, keeping it gripped tightly in his little fingers.

"Daddy, where's Mommy?"

"She left."

He's not exactly sure where she would go this early in the morning, and why she didn't take him with her. They always go food shopping, or to the post office together. What he does know is that the idea of her not being here is not right at all. Who is going to cook him breakfast? Who will give him a bath, or tuck him in at naptime? He doesn't want it to be his father; he just wants his mom.

"I want her to come home now," he pleads, bottom lip jutting out a small fraction. He tugs again on his father's pants.

His father stands up abruptly, knocking Blaine down onto the floor with a hard thud.

"She's gone, Blaine. She's not coming back. She doesn't love us anymore-she never did."

Blaine watches through blurry vision as his father picks up the picture of his mother sitting on the dresser, barely even glancing at it before he throws it against the wall and strides out the door. Blaine pulls his knees up to his chest, afraid to follow his father downstairs. Hot tears burn down his cheeks, but he doesn't bother to wipe them away. It is going to be just the two of them now, and he doesn't like that one bit.

* * *

><p>She had taken most of her stuff with her. Her closet was nearly empty, and her dresser drawers had been ransacked thoroughly. Whatever she had left behind was neatly packed away by his father into one of the guest rooms a few days later. It was like that stuff was just sitting there waiting for her all ready to go when she came back for it. And Blaine couldn't help but believe just that.<p>

There was no way she would leave for good without taking everything with her. One day she would have to come back for it, and when she did Blaine would be waiting, all ready to go with her too.

As a result, Blaine spent a lot of time in that lonely room. He didn't want to miss her when she came back because he feared that she would forget to come find him. Some days he would hide away in there from his father if he was in a particularly bad mood. There were other nights when Blaine would wake up in a panic, fearing that she had arrived during the night and he had missed her. So he would carefully crawl out of bed and make his way quietly to the room to calm his nerves. He always felt a wave of relief at the sight of her belongs still waiting untouched where he had left them earlier that day. He would wind up sleeping curled in a tiny ball on the floor hoping that tonight would be the night they snuck away from his father for good. But she never came.

Her memory has grown foggy in his mind over the years.

By six he had already forgotten what she smelled like. He tried desperately to remember every time he went into that room, breathing deeply into the clothes she left behind, but none of them smelled right to him. Most of the clothes in there were the ones she didn't wear on a regular basis. Some of them she hadn't worn in years-like the long, white lace wedding dress that Blaine sometimes hid behind.

By seven he couldn't remember the sound of her voice. He used to be able to hear her in his head. Hear her calling out to him. Hear her telling him she loved he before he went to bed at night. But as the years passed and he tried to think back onto those small moments, her voice sounded off. Some nights it would sound more like one of the ladies on TV, or more like one of his teachers. A wave of anxiety washed through him each time because he knew it wasn't quite right. Slowly, it began to sound like his voice, until that was all he was able to hear.

By eight her face didn't form into a beautiful picture in his mind anymore. He slowly forgot what she looked like; her facial features started blurring together until she became more of an abstract idea of "mom" in his head. He feared of forgetting, so he spent hours looking at the wedding picture of her and his father. But it seemed pointless as that image didn't seem right to him either; her face still seemed too different.

By the time he's twelve, all the memories of his mother are gone. Looking at pictures of her is just like looking at the ones that come already tucked neatly into the photos frames. He feels disconnected to the women he sees smiling into the camera. He recognizes the dress; in fact, he's sitting next to it now. He can run his hands down the lace and tulle. He recognizes the face of his father, even though it's warmer than he's ever seen, but he can look into that face and knows it's the man that he sits down at the dinner table with every night. But it's like he's never met _her _before. She's just some woman in some photo standing too close to his father.

There's only one thing in that room that has the ability to bring some sort of memory to his mind, to make him feel like she had actually been in his life once. He crawls over to the small black case resting in the far corner of the room. Blaine knows that it's the most important thing in this room-to him…to his mother once. He pulls it onto his lap, and unlatches the gold buckles on the side, raising the lid to reveal a small violin.

It's simple instrument, not heavily adorned but rather antique looking. A close inspection of it proves that the violin is quite old. The polish has faded enough that the small violin doesn't shine the same way that newer ones do. The old dusty strings are loose from lack of proper tuning in years. Scratches make their way all over the body, although they blend into the rosewood-the red wood's stripes of darker and lighter hues running across the body of the instrument mask the damage it has accumulated over the years.

When he holds it, cradling it gingerly in his hands, he sometimes gets this glimpse, a little flash of a memory. It's not a big memory, or a very important one. Blaine often wonders if he constructed the whole thing up in his mind. But it's also so strong, and when he lets himself get lost into it, he swears he can feel her presence. He can picture her so clearly, sitting on that tall stool in her bedroom, with the violin raised to her chin and her fingers dancing across the strings as she moves the bow swiftly, gracefully to create a beautiful melody. He still can't see her face, but sometimes he can almost hear her playing, the faint fragments of sound enveloping him into a warm embrace.

* * *

><p>It's a dark chilly night when he's somewhere between twelve and thirteen when his father has some sort of break. For once, his anger isn't directed at Blaine.<p>

Blaine has spent the night working on a history paper in his room, not paying too much attention to the sounds of footsteps traveling up and down the steps, or the front door opening and closing. It's not until something clangs loudly, startling him from his thoughts on the Civil War that he realizes that his father must be home.

He wonders what exactly his Dad is up too as he hears more banging around. Debating for a moment if he should just stay put and be thankful that his father is keeping to himself, he hesitantly opens his bedroom door to peer out into the hall. His father is nowhere in sight, but his heart speeds up to a wild thrumming as he realizes that the door to the guest room is ajar with a light shinning through the crack. His feet suddenly feel like lead attached to his legs, and he can't get them to move towards the light. He can feel his pulse reverberating through his entire body as he makes his way towards the door; the sound of his blood rushing through his head is the only thing he hears. Blaine has to stop and take a deep breath before he slowly peers around the doorway to look into the room. His heart stops at the sight, freezing its wild beating before starting back up in double time until it feels like it will burst right through his chest. Half of his mother's belongings are missing from the room, and the rest is now sitting next to some empty boxes lined up by the door.

This time he doesn't take a moment to hesitate before his feet are crashing down the steps and he's racing towards the door. Only he collides straight into something as he turns the corner to the hallway. Blaine gasps loudly as the wind gets knocked out of him, and he hears someone else grunt in pain.

"What the hell Blaine?"

Blaine's heart drops so low in his chest he doesn't know if he will never be able to get it back up again. He stares at his father, who is rubbing at his side where Blaine crashed into him. He was stupid enough to believe that she came back for her stuff…for him.

His father stands, straightening out his clothes, and staggers a forward a little before he roughly pulls Blaine to his feet by the back of his shirt. Blaine stomach coils at the strong smell of alcohol that assaults his senses as his father lets out a huff of breath. The smell of smoke is clinging to his jacket, and Blaine quickly realizes that he must have just come from a bar. The realization makes Blaine wish that he never left the safety of his own room. His squirms against the hold his father still has on his shirt, hoping he could just escape back up there. But his father merely squints at him, blue eyes turning into steely, narrow slits.

"At least make yourself useful if you're going to go running throughout the house. Come help me bring this shit out to the curb."

Blaine freezes. Was he talking about his mother's things?

"What stuff?" Blaine asks, hoping that he was wrong.

"Everything in the guest room. It's garbage night." His father waves his hands in a dismal gesture stumbling making his way back up the steps.

Blaine feels anger suddenly course throughout his body, hitting him like a stormy wave so that he doesn't even think about the consequences of his actions as he races back up the steps and throws open the door to the guest room. His father gives him a warning look before continuing to place stuff into one of the cardboard boxes. Why does he think that he can just throw away everything belonging to his mother?

His father's hand falls onto the floral tin container that holds all of her sewing supplies. Blaine can hear the needles and spools clanking around as he moves to place it in the box. Blaine reaches out abruptly, ripping the tin from his father's hand.

Equally surprised by Blaine's action, they both freeze for a moment. His father stares at him, mouth turning down sternly.

"Blaine." It's a warning. Don't try me he's saying. Blaine knows he should listen, should put that tin down and just walk away because when it comes to his father, Blaine never leaves the victor. But he just _can't_. These belongings are his mother's, and deep down he still believes that one day she might come looking for them. What would he say to her when she came back to find an empty room?

"This is mom's," he says firmly, hugging the sewing kit firmly to his chest and taking a step away from his father.

His dad looks at him and laughs, but it's more a cold harsh burst of air expelling from his lungs. He reaches out towards the tin, lunging forward when Blaine moves backwards again. They struggle back and forth for a minute until his dad finally pries it from his fingers.

"You think she's coming back for this crap!" he yells holding it up in Blaine's face. "It's been seven years, Blaine!"

He slams it down into the box and Blaine hears other items shattering from the force.

"By now she has a whole closet full of new crap. Grow up kid. She was never planning on coming back."

Blaine shakes his head fervently. He wants to yell 'your wrong,' but he bites his tongue. His father finishes loading up the box and rises from the floor to pick it up. Blaine makes a move to stop him again, but his father quickly stops him with a hand to the chest. He turns to Blaine, gripping onto his shoulder tightly and leaning in close to his face.

Blaine turns away from the smell of stale beer as his father says, "I'm throwing this out Blaine, that's final. We can do this the hard way if we have to."

His hands tighten slightly on Blaine's shoulders in a promise of what he means, and Blaine tries unsuccessfully to roll them out of his grasp. "But I am getting rid of this junk. It's just taking up space."

His father lets go of him with a slight shove, and Blaine watches hopelessly as he carries the box down the steps. He knew deep down that he wouldn't win against his father, and any more attempts would just get him into trouble. At least maybe at this point if he just agrees, his father will later retreat to his own room for the rest of the night and leave him alone.

However, Blaine doesn't retreat to the safety of his room. His feet seem stuck on the ground making him watch as his father continues to pack away every last memory he has of his mother, until there's only one thing left sitting abandoned on the floor in that deserted room.

The violin.

Blaine has the fleeting thought to just grab it and hide it away in his room, but his father's shadow falls over it before he has the chance. He just can't help himself. He follows his dad down the steps, eyes never straying from the black case tucked securely under his arm.

"Dad. Dad, please. Let me keep it."

But his father keeps walking, not even acknowledging him.

"Dad!" Blaine reaches out, hand falling to wrap around his father's elbow, making him pause. He turns to face Blaine.

"Please," he begs. He knows he sounds completely pathetic, his voice cracking a little at the end of the sentence, but that was his mother's most prized possession. They both know it, considering that his father was the one to tell him in the first place. The one to admit during one of his late night drunken confessions that he had been astounded to see that she left it behind. He needed to keep it. If there is one thing that will ever bring her back home, it would be that violin.

"Just this," he says. "Please, Dad, please don't throw this out." And his hands are acting again of their own accord, moving shakily to grip the handle, trying desperately to loosen it from his father's tight grasp.

His father's eyes are cold, and he shows no sign of being affected by Blaine's pleas. Instead, he shoves Blaine backwards roughly, making him hit into the wall.

"This goes."

"Dad!" Blaine cries out again, moving quickly after him.

His father turns sharply on his heel, and Blaine cowers down, not moving fast enough to completely avoid that hand that lashes out as it hits him across the bottom of his chin. It stings, but he barely even notices.

"Enough!"

Blaine knows when he has lost, so he follows silently out the front door. He wipes hastily at the tears that have started to run down his face as he watches his father march over to the pile on the curb in front of their house.

He's surprised, however, when his father pauses, the hands clutching around that black case seemingly unable to let it fall into the others that litter the ground. He stares as his father runs one hand down the front the case in the gentlest gesture he has ever seen his father make. It's almost reverent in the way he traces his fingers along the gold clasps on the edge. Blaine thinks for a moment that he's not going to be able to do it, that he will turn around and bring that case back up to rest in the dusty old room. Suddenly though, his father seems to regain his composure and swiftly lets it fall from his hands to land with a clunk on top of the other boxes.

It's the first time that Blaine considers the fact that she walked out on them both.

(The revelation doesn't stop Blaine, however, from waiting until his father passes out on the couch in his study to sneak outside to rescue it. He carries the black case, cradling it lovingly in his arms, and a few other important items-like the wedding picture, and a small piece of her dress-up to his room. He hides them safely in the back of his closet, far away from his father.)

* * *

><p>Blaine spends most of the next few hours after Carol leaves falling in and out of sleep. Whatever medication they have him on is leaving Blaine feeling like he can't keep his eyes open, but nausea mixed with his bad dreams keep forcing him back into awareness. He glances over to the clock noticing that it was already past 2.<p>

It's been a couple of hours since anyone has been by to check in on him. Unless, they came in while he was asleep and he hadn't been aware of it, which is a possibility. Oh well, someone would at least be back by dinnertime.

His stomach gives a sudden disapproving lurch just at the thought. Eating is the last thing on his mind at the moment. In fact, there are more pressing matters that he is concentrating on, such as the memories that are still eluding him. Sighing, he taps his fingers to an old familiar beat as he tries to let his mind focus on those thoughts that seem just out of reach. All morning images kept floating in and out of his vision but he could never seem to grasp them.

Not being able to remember is driving him crazy, and no matter how bad it was he just needs to know what happened to him last night.

"What song is that?"

Blaine startles, jumping up straighter on the bed. He glances over to Joey, who is giving him a big grin and holding a brown paper bag in his hand. At least he's not acting strange towards Blaine anymore, and it feels like a relief to Blaine, only he's not exactly sure why.

Joey is still giving him a quizzical look, and Blaine feels his cheeks heating up. He hadn't even realized that he had started humming out loud.

Blaine gives him a tiny shrug, his shoulders barely moving upward, "I honestly don't even know."

Joey raises an eyebrow at him.

"It's just…just something that always seems to be stuck in my head," he adds quietly, looking down at his hands. Just another one of his life's great mysteries, but Joey seems satisfied enough with his answer.

"I brought you something," Joey lifts up the bag and gives it a gentle shake.

Frowning, Blaine looks at Joey in confusion, eyeing the bag suspiciously. Joey just laughs and his grin grows wider.

"It's not going to bite you. Actually you will be the one doing the biting," he says pulling out a bagel, a small container filled with cereal, a chocolate pudding pack, and a package of crackers, plopping them all onto Blaine's bed.

Blaine stares at the food, feeling his stomach make another sign of protest as if to let him know that it isn't going to give in so easily.

"Um, thanks," Blaine says, as he gently moves to put the food on the table next to him. "But I'm not really hungry."

Joey's face falls a little. Blaine for some unknown reason feels guilty.

"Maybe in a little while?" he adds as an afterthought, hoping that he didn't offend Joey.

Joey runs a hand through his hair before moving to start untangling the blood pressure machine again.

"You need to eat something, Blaine, and none of this should upset your stomach anymore. Besides the bagel is the best in town. It's from Smith's, and it was made fresh this morning. I got on my way in and it was still hot when they handed me the bag."

Blaine just stares at Joey. "This is your lunch," he deduces.

"Well yeah, I know how gross the food here can be so I figured this might be a little more appetizing."

"I can't…you don't have to." Why the hell was Joey giving him his food?

But Joey must have sensed that he had some sort of leverage here because his grin immediately grew more mischievous.

"You know kid, I don't just share my food with anyone, so I'd be kinda hurt that when I'm being generous enough to give up my lunch, my recipient won't even try it."

Blaine wants to laugh and groan all the same time. Unfortunately the groan wins out, as Joey rips open the pack of crackers and holds one out for him. There is no way around it; he is going to have to eat it.

"Come on, Blaine, one little cracker isn't going to kill you. Just nibble on it, and I swear I will leave you alone."

Blaine takes it begrudgingly, giving Joey a small glare when he realizes the man is going to simply watch him until he actually eats it.

Their stalemate is quickly broken when a knock sounds from the door. Joey freezes for a moment, peering out the glass window on the wall, before quickly walking over to the door.

Blaine stares at the cracker in his hand for a moment, silently debating whether he can just throw it out or if Joey would actually check the trash bin sitting next to his bed. The hushed voices coming from the door distract him from his internal debate. Joey seems to be arguing with whoever is out there.

He sees Joeys turn and glance at him quickly, before turning back to the conversation. He has an odd feeling that it has something to do with him. He leans forward trying to see if he could make out what they were saying, but his efforts are pointless as Joey comes strolling back into the room a second later, quickly followed by Carol and some woman that Blaine has never met before.

She clearly isn't a nurse-the usual outfit of scrubs being replaced instead a black pencil skirt, a matching blazer, and dark heels. Her outfit is screaming that she is some sort of professional.

Blaine glances quickly between all three of them, noticing the way that Joey won't exactly meet his eyes and instead chooses to stare rather guilty at a spot above his head. A bad feeling starts to settle low in his stomach and he is grateful that he never actually ate anything. He places his uneaten cracker down on the table, just as Carol clears her throat to break the awkward tension that settled over the room.

"Hey Blaine, this is Jen," she gestures at the woman next to her, who steps closer to the bed and offers Blaine a hand to shake. "She wanted to talk to you for a little bit if you were feeling up to it."

The room is beginning to feel like it is closing in on him. Blaine feels like it is getting hotter by the minute, but he still can't stop himself from dragging the blankets upwards to cover around himself like some sort of shield.

"Why?"

Carol looks between Joey and Jen as if debating what exactly to tell him, but Jen chooses that moment to step up and take the lead of whatever action they were planning on taking.

"Well, Blaine we just had a few question for you. Some of the…details about your accident aren't really adding up, and we just wanted to try to get them straight."

Blaine briefly wonders if she is a cop. Maybe he was in some sort of trouble for allegedly causing a fire? Unfortunately the question leaves his lips right as he thinks it.

Jen smiles, and he thinks that it is supposed to be a warm gesture, but there is something about her that stays a little rough, and business like.

"You're not in any trouble, Blaine, I promise. I just want to ask you a couple of things, and all you have to do is answer as honestly as you can. Is that alright?"

Hesitantly, he looks back over at Joey and Carol trying to gauge what exactly is going on here. Carol gives him a smile, "It's okay Blaine."

He wonders if he should believe her. After a moment he gives a small nod. There isn't exactly anything he could do at this point anyway.

"Are you a cop?" And wow Blaine has absolutely no control over his mouth today. He better fix that fast. He quickly shuts it and rubs at the back of his neck, the flush of embarrassment coming over him quickly.

But the corners of Jen's mouth just tug upwards, and she lets out a little laugh. "No, Blaine, I'm not a cop. I work with Social Services."

Blaine's hand drops back down to his lap with a small thud. That is even worse. He swallows hard, blinking a few times and tries to quell the panic he feels threatening to rise. Crap. Joey and Carol had seen the bruises, and he realizes that they obviously started suspecting that something suspicious was going on. Blaine feels anger seep into his body, strong enough that he can convince himself that the slight tremor in his hands are caused by that feeling instead of fear. He doesn't want their help. Why couldn't they have just left this alone?

He has to act calm so that they will believe him when he says that nothing was wrong. He lets out a slow breath, and forces a smile to appear on his face.

"Okay, what did you want to ask me about?"

"Well there's no need to rush," she says pulling the chair in the corner closer to his bed. "How are you feeling? It seems like you got some bad injuries."

"Sore," he admits, never letting his smile falter. "But I guess I should learn to be less of a klutz when I decide to go running up the stairs.

She looks at him with an intense gaze that makes Blaine feel the desire to fidget under it. "Yes, well, I guess accidents happens sometimes." But Blaine can tell by her tone the she doesn't really believe it.

Blaine just shrugs, not wanting to say anything to make the situation worse, and Jen continues on, "Especially under extreme circumstances. I noticed that your Dad's not here right now," she says looking around the room as if he might magically appear out of thin air. "Joey and Carol say that he hasn't been here since early this morning."

"Um yeah. I think someone said he had to deal with the insurance stuff for the house. It's fine really, I've been sleeping all day so it's not like I'd be much company to him any way."

"I see." She leans forward resting her elbow on her knee, and placing her chin in her hand. "How is your relationship with your father, Blaine? Do you two get along well?

Blaine prides himself with the fact that he doesn't skip a beat, and that his voice doesn't quaver as he answers, "Me and Dad? Yea, we get along great."

"Do you two ever fight?"

"Well yes, but all parents and kids fight. That's pretty normal right?"

"Does he yell at you a lot, Blaine?"

"Um no?" Blaine curses in his head because it comes out sounding more like a question, but Jen doesn't seem to be giving up and it's making him feel a little antsy. "Sometimes I do something stupid and he yells, but I mean look at last night, I accidentally set my house on fire."

"Hmm," she hums, "Do you actually remember causing that fire, Blaine?"

"Well no," he admits, even though he desperately wishes that he did just so he could tell her so.

"Blaine, does your father ever hit you?"

And it's like someone sucked all the air out of the room, leaving Blaine struggling to draw in enough oxygen into his own lungs. Stillness passes over the room quickly, and Blaine feels like the moment is suspended in time.

No one has ever blatantly asked him like that before and it catches him off guard, his quick response of denial dying on his lips.

He can feel three pairs of questioning eyes on him, encouraging him to answer. You can end this, they are telling him. You can have a clean break from this hell. Only, he doesn't know if he really wants to start over right now. He has a plan that he's already working on. He can make it through the next two years on his own.

He tries to speak, but his voice gets caught in his throat.

Carol is the one to finally move, walking closer to his bed and offering him a gentle smile. But it is also a sad sort of smile—one that says she understands too much of Blaine's messed up life.

"Blaine," she starts, gently placing her hand on top of his. The gesture causes him to flinch and pull back. The corners of her mouth twitch downward for a moment, as she pulls her hand to rest instead on the side of the bed, before she beams at him brighter than before. Falser than before, in a manner that Blaine knows is meant to prove to him that everything would be okay if he just answers the question. But it isn't about just answering; it's about providing them with the right answer.

He knows he has several options.

He can turn to Carol, with a smile even brighter and faker than her own, laughing it off with an "are you kidding me, not my dad." That would be the answer that they would all be relieved to hear, because honestly, then they won't have any obligation to have to step in and fix his problem. To try to fix him. They can go about their merry ways and be done with him, just like everyone else. But glancing around the room, he feels like they will never be satisfied with that answer.

Then of course there is the second option, to speak those words that they really don't want to hear. To out his dad, and to send his whole life spiraling more out of control then it already is.

So Blaine chooses the unseen third option: he chooses not to answer at all.

But after a couple of moments, that doesn't seem to work for them either.

"Blaine, we just want to help you," Carol says, trying to catch his eye but he makes it a point not to look at her. Deep down he still feels betrayed by Joey and Carol. He had trusted them.

He just wants them to leave him alone, to leave this alone. He needs to find a way to convince them. Blaine is racking his mind to find a way out when one of those little images from earlier start clouding his vision again. He feels like something is pulling to the forefront of his mind, and he keeps trying to desperately grab at it before it disappears again. If only he could remember what happened last night. He closes his eyes and tries to focus as if he could will the memory back in his mind.

"Blaine…" He hears Jen start talking again. "We don't think that you got all these injuries from falling down the steps. We just need you to be honest with us right now."

But her voice is becoming hazy because the steps, Blaine remembers the steps.

* * *

><p><em>Blaine watches in horror, as the flames grow higher, quickly engulfing more of the living room in each passing second. His attempts to stop the fire were futile as another loud pop fills the air sending more sparks throughout the room, only helping it to spread faster. Think! He tries to force himself not to be overcome with panic, but he is finding it hard to remain claim. He wipes at his face, a mixture of tears and blood clinging to his hand. The smoke is already building, making the air smothering and difficult to breath in. The only option left is to get out to safety and call the fire department. He could do that-he just has to ignore the growing heat, and the panic steadily rising in the pit of his stomach in time with the flames.<em>

_He wills his legs to move faster, trying not to focus on the screaming pain in his ribs as he moves. He definitely broke one of them. He keeps pushing himself until he makes it into the kitchen to grab the cordless phone._

"_Dad!" he lets his voice sound out, trying to make it rise over the ringing in his ears._

"_Dad!" Even louder than before, but ending in a slight cough as he takes in the rising smoke. _

_Still the only noise answering him back is the roar and cracks from the other room. He runs back to the stairs, fingers searching unsuccessfully to find the right numbers on the phone. He can't just leave his father in here. Even after all the crap he has put Blaine through he is still his father and deep down Blaine still cares for him. He has to get him out somehow. _

_He makes it to the top of the steps just as his father comes, arms full of more Blaine's belongings, walking out of his bedroom. They nearly collide in both of their haste. Blaine doesn't even have time to explain before his Dad takes one look at the phone in Blaine's hand and smacks it away. Blaine watches helplessly as it crashes to the floor, along with all of the things his father was carrying. The battery skitters somewhere behind Blaine, almost falling down the steps but stopping a few inches before. _

"_What the hell are you doing Blaine?" his father growls. "You trying to call the police?" _

_Blaine just ignores the question and tries to remain calm so that he could reason with his father and make him see what was going on. But it is hard talk to him when he is in the middle of one his rages. His father crouches to the floor, scooping up what he dropped_

"_We need to get out of here Dad, there's a fire in the living room." He tries to pull on his Dad's hand to urge him away from the ground and towards the steps to safety. _

"_Dad," Blaine pleads, worry creeping in that he won't be able to get them out before the fire spreads to other rooms. _

_His father just glares at him with wild eyes. "Let go of me Blaine." _

_He pulls his hands away forcibly, dislodging Blaine's grip. He gathers up everything on the floor and rises to his feet, Blaine following not a second behind him. _

"_Dad just forget this stuff. We need to go outside and call the fire department."_

_Blaine reaches out to take the things out of his father's arms, but it suddenly leads to them struggling like two toddlers each trying to claim a toy for himself. He has his Dad's shirt grasped in his hands, and he's trying to get him to put down the stuff, while his father is trying relentlessly to knock Blaine off. It happens so quickly that there is no chance of Blaine regaining his footing. As his father tries to push him away his elbow collides with Blaine's injured ribs, causing him to stumble backwards until his foot lands on the phone battery. His foot slides slickly on the floor as a result. After a second of failing, Blaine loses his balance completely and tumbles backwards down the steps. He lets out a gasp before his world is surrounded by darkness. _

* * *

><p>"I remember," Blaine says quietly. They all continue to stare at him.<p>

"Remember what, Blaine?" Carol asks gently.

"I remember falling down the stairs. That's how I got hurt."

He knows that it's not exactly the whole truth; he must have gotten most of his injuries before the fall, but it's true enough that he can say it convincingly without a waver in his voice. And at least maybe they could take his long silence as him having this revelation.

Jen stares at him, long and hard, trying to gauge where he is coming from.

"You remember falling? You're sure that's how you got hurt. "

He nods again, and they all seem taken aback for a moment, glancing between each other. Joey looks like he's about to say something when movement outside Blaine's window catches everyone's eyes.

Shit-Blaine thinks it as Joey mutters it out loud. His father is out there, arguing with one of the nurses who seems to be telling him that he can't enter the room right now. But her attempts are intercepted when Dr. Chamberlain strolls up behind his father, and they move closer to the door.

"What's going on here?" his dad asks, shooting looks around the room. The shift in the room is palpable and immediate, tension infusing into every crevice. It suddenly becomes quite difficult for Blaine to breath, in a way that has nothing to do with the pain in his ribs. He wonders if everyone else feels it too.

Blaine watches his dad take in the two nurses, and then Jen, eyes resting on her for a moment as he begins to put puzzle pieces together in his mind. His father takes a deep breath, his face becoming a mask of pleasantness and slight worry. Only Blaine can see the silent fury resonating underneath as he turns with a hand stretched out towards Jen, a charming smile plastered across his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm being impolite. Jack Anderson," he says as they shake hands. "The nurse told me I wasn't allowed to come in here to see Blaine, and I got freaked out thinking something had happened to him. You alright, Blaine?"

Blaine nods tightly because he feels his father's gaze pierce right through him. There was a threat hidden somewhere in there if Blaine didn't follow along. "I'm fine, Dad. Nothing's wrong."

"Good, good," his father rubs his hands together. "May I ask what all this is about then?"

"Yes, I would like to know that myself," Dr. Chamberlain retorts as he glances around the room, arms folded tightly across his chest like he was about to reprimand four small children for making a mess. "Ah," he says. He gaze flicks to Joey, and his eyes narrow into thin, angry slits. "You're behind all this. I should have known."

Blaine notices that Joey turns a little pink, and breaks eye contact with the Doctor.

"I'm only trying to…"

"Only trying to what? Ruin another person's reputation? Haven't you done that enough! Don't worry about anything, Jack. It all makes perfect sense now that I see that Jamie here is involved. He's not good at minding his own damn business."

"Joey," Carol says pointedly, "is one of the best nurses we have and he's just following hospital procedures."

Blaine wishes he could just disappear into the bed sheets. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to end pretty. He must have let out a little groan, because five pairs of eyes swiftly turn to focus on him.

"Maybe we should move this discussion outside, and let Blaine rest for a while. I'm sure the past two days have been rough on him," Jen says, taking the cue perfectly.

"I'd actually like to have a few moments with my son first if you don't mind. I haven't gotten to see him all day."

But before Blaine even has a moment to be frightened by the prospect of being alone with his father, Jen speaks up. "Actually I'd rather you not."

"Excuse me." His father's agitation breaks through, and he stares at her in astonishment.

"At least until I can further our investigation, I think it would be best if you weren't around Blaine."

"I'm his father. This is ridiculous. What exactly are you implying here?"

She shrugs, seemingly not at all fazed by his father's tone. "We can talk about it outside."

She moves for the door, pausing when no one makes a move to follow her out. "Well come on then."

Blaine watches them all leave silently, waiting for the door to close with a soft click before letting his hand scrub across his face. Crap.

* * *

><p>Carol and Joey watch from the nurse's desk as Jen talks to Mr. Anderson and Dr. Chamberlain. It's not a very pretty scene, and it's quickly gathering the attention of other nurses in the area.<p>

Dr. Chamberlain is really the one causing the spectacle- yelling and threatening to have most of them fired. His voice is carrying throughout the entire floor. He keeps bad mouthing Joey mostly, and Carol feels horrible because she can already see people whispering with their eyes focused on Joey. She knows most people are going to assume that he made a mistake again. Especially since Mr. Anderson and Dr. Chamberlain keep denying that there is any reason for concern.

Jen keeps her ground, however, never backing down and never even raising her voice. She just calmly listens to them both and waits for them to reach a point where they have run out of things to say. Carol can't hear what she is saying, but it seems to make both the men relax and finally agree to give in. After a couple of more moments of discussion, she shakes hands with both men and heads in the direction of the nurse's station. Carol keeps her gaze on Mr. Anderson and the Doctor who continuing talking quietly across the hall.

"What's going on?" Joey asks the moment Jen reaches them. "What happens next?"

"Well, Mr. Anderson has agreed to stay away from Blaine right now. It took some convincing but I think we reached a compromise."

Carol feels a rush of relief at that. There was no way she was going to leave Blaine alone with that man. After their discussion with Blaine she is even more convinced that his relationship with his father is an unpleasant one. Of course he wouldn't admit it, but Carol could see the fear lurking in his eyes when he realized what they were there for.

"He's going to go home for the night and.."

"Wait," Joey interrupts. "He's going home now. Aren't you going to question him?"

Jen nods. "Tomorrow."

"Aren't you afraid he'll just not come back or something?"

Jen shakes her head. "He'll show."

She glances back at Mr. Anderson. "I've done this job long enough to recognize the parents that would rather split town then face us, but he's not one of them. I have a feeling reputation is more important to him. He'll want to get this straightened out and cleared away as fast as possible."

Carol has no problem trusting that piece of judgment form Jen. "So what will happen to tomorrow?"

"Well, first I'm going to head back to my office today and start seeing what information I can find. I'll try to find some family friends and some of Blaine's teachers that I can contact and see if they are willing to answer some questions. We'll try to see if anyone else has had these same suspicions, or knows of any other incidents that would qualify as evidence that Mr. Anderson has been abusing Blaine. Then, tomorrow I'll interview Mr. Anderson when he comes back in, and at some point I'll interview Blaine again. There's not much else I can do at the moment. We don't have enough evidence to claim that Mr. Anderson has caused any harm."

"But the bruises…" Joey begins.

"Are all backed by a certified doctor as being obtained by an accident, which Blaine himself also clarifies as the case. Look, I believe as much as you two do that Blaine's only issue is the fact that he fell down some steps, but until we have further proof I can't do much about it."

Joey runs a hand through his hair. "And if we find that evidence, or if Blaine admits it? What happens then?"

"Then we do what is best for Blaine. We'd remove him from the home. Usually we'll find another relative or a close friend that is willing to take the child in for a while, or we take the child into our custody and place them in either a shelter or a foster home. We also offer to help the parents get on the right track. In the case of Mr. Anderson, that would probably be some therapy and anger management classes. Our goal is to always try to reunite the family together, so if in a couple of months or even a few years if Mr. Anderson shows us that he's made effort and progress we would place Blaine back into his custody. Blaine's already sixteen, so hopefully his father will be able to pull himself together before he's legally an adult."

Jen watches them carefully for a moment as they take in all the information, and she must see the anxiety that is written across both their faces.

"You guys have done all that you can right now, let me take it over from here. I'm going to go back to the offices now and start looking up some a potential family member who could take Blaine in if we do feel it's necessary to take him away from Jack. But for now, he's safe right here in this hospital."

Carol tries to agree, but the words just won't come out. She hopes that they've done enough.

* * *

><p>Even by the time that Carol gets home, walking into the warm house filled with the delicious scent of one Kurt's meals, she can't shake the worry she has about that poor boy.<p>

She is distracted all throughout dinner. She only half listens to Finn as he tells her about how he and Burt spent all morning trying to figure out why this one car in the shop suddenly wouldn't start, only to figure out hours later that Finn had accidentally cut a wire. Her mind just wanders back to Blaine, wondering if he ever got to spend time like that with his father-working side by side until they successfully figured out a problem together. She still can't focus when Kurt tells them all about the play he went to see with Rachel and Mercedes earlier. She keeps wondering if Blaine ever got to be so open with his father, sharing his interests even if his father didn't quite understand them himself.

Watching the way Burt interacted with each of the boys-joining in to Finn's story to add a joke or a detail he missed, turning to Kurt after Finn finishes and telling him how he wished he had been there because Kurt probably would have figured out what was wrong before either of them, asking Kurt questions about the play, and smiling brightly after Kurt is done with his rave review saying that maybe they should all go check it out sometime- her heart aches because deep down she knows Blaine probably never got any of this from his father. She finds herself doubting if he ever even had a dinner that was this filled with love.

"Carol?"

She looks up to Burt after she's been pulled away from her ruminations. He's looking at her carefully, already knowing that something is wrong. God, he is such a good man, and she can't help but wish Blaine was lucky enough to have someone like him in his life.

The boys are watching her too, and she guesses that she has been quiet for too long.

"You okay mom?"

She nods, and lets out a long sigh. "Just a long day at work."

"Why don't you go upstairs for a while? The boys and me can clean this up."

She thinks about protesting, but she feels drained so she agrees. She could use a long hot shower to clear her head. She gives Burt a kiss on the cheek on her way past.

She is so grateful for the family she has been blessed with.

* * *

><p>Burt comes to find her by the time she's freshly dressed, lounging on the bed and flipping lazily through a magazine. He comes up behind her, wrapping his arm around her in a loving embrace before dropping a light kiss on her neck.<p>

"Do you want to tell me what's going on? You seem upset."

She nods, and he comes around to the other side of the bed to sit across from her. She takes a moment to compose herself, and tries to find the words to explain Blaine's story to Burt. He waits patiently for a moment, and then takes her hand in hers. He rubs gentle circles over the top of her hand with her thumb, and she gives him a small smile.

"Did one of your patients die?"

"No," she says, a small breath of almost laughter escaping her lips, just from the way Burt comes straight out and asks her.

She doesn't know why this is affecting her so much. Everyday she deals with all kinds of patients, all kinds of sad stories and bad situations. Of course, she feels horrible every time, and wishes that there was more she could do for each family she sees struggling. But usually at the end of the day she knows she's done her job and that's the most she can do for them. She just…she can't seem to shake the thoughts of Blaine. She can't get him out of her head, can't stop picturing those bruises in her mind, or seeing those frightened eyes looking at her. She doesn't feel like she's done enough to help him.

"There's this kid that came onto our floor last night. He's only sixteen." She pauses, listening to Burt's hum of understanding. Their boys were the same age. She knows he understands that seeing anything bad happen to someone their age is just a reminder of the fact that they could easily be in that kid's spot.

"His house burnt down last night, and at some point during that he fell down his flight of stairs."

"Geez, the kid alright?"

She shakes her head. "He's got a broken rib, some bad bruises, and a couple of burns. He has no recollection of the fire. Or well, by the time I left he remembered falling."

Which still makes her wonder-she isn't sure if she is completely convinced that he remembered that, or at least that he was telling the truth about the whole thing. Blaine may have just been covering up for his Dad.

Burt watches her for a moment. "There's something else."

"When we were checking him out we noticed that some of his bruises didn't look like they could have come from the incident." She shudders as the image of the handprints on Blaine's body rose in her mind.

"One of them looked like someone had tried to strangle him," she whispers it out letting it lay there in the air somewhere between them for a moment.

Burt's eyes narrow as he starts to put the information together. "You think someone's been beating him?"

"We think maybe his father. We called social services and they came over to talk to Blaine, but he won't…he wouldn't say anything against his father, and then his father actually showed up. And according to Jen we didn't have enough evidence yet to do anything."

Burt curses under his breathe. "What kind of idiot treats their own kid that way?"

"I've been trying to figure that out all day."

She rubs at her head, trying to release the tension that built up again.

"I'm just afraid that he's going to walk out of that hospital in a few days still in the custody of his father and there will be nothing I can do about."

Burt keeps rubbing soothing circles on her hand. "Well, we won't let that happen. We will make sure that he gets the help he needs."

God, she hopes he's right.

* * *

><p>So that's the first part! I will get the next part up as fast as I can :)<p>

Please review and let me know what you liked, or didn't like :D


	5. Incomplete and Insecure, Part B

**Incomplete and Insecure, Part B **

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Glee or any of the characters used in this story. **

**Warnings: more Blaine angst, physical and verbal abuse, language **

**Author's Note: Oh my goodness, I am so so sorry you guys! I hope you all don't hate me for taking so long to update. This has been my craziest/hardest semester at school, and between that and work I have been seriously lacking the time to update. But the good news is that school ends in a couple of weeks for summer, and I'm not taking any classes over the break so I will have lots of time to work on this. **

**Thank you all again for your lovely words, and your alerts – they mean so much to me! And I hope you will continue to enjoy this story :D**

* * *

><p>The morning arrives sooner than Blaine wants it to.<p>

The day before had been such a whirlwind, quickly progressing from the shock of waking up in the hospital not even being able to remember why, and then crashing abruptly with somebody coming way to close to finding out the truth about the Anderson household.

Blaine stares at the clock on the wall, watching the little hand travel around and around the circle in small ticks. The room is too silent. The only noise being the incessant ticking, which is now becoming increasingly annoying every passing second. Blaine would be tempted to go knock the clock off the wall, if staring at wasn't having an almost calming effect on him. Watching it has been enabling him to focus his thoughts. He had turned on the TV for a little while after he had first awoken, but the fact that all he could find to watch was either the morning news or some toddler cartoon about mermaids proved that it was much more of an annoyance than the mindless distraction he is searching for at the moment.

All night he had been plagued with more nightmares, always starting the same, but with each one continually getting worse. He awoke from the last one drenched in sweat, and tangled up in his twisted sheets with a tremor running through his body. His newly regained memory of falling down the staircase didn't seem to ease any of the anxiety that had been growing in his mind. In fact, it only seemed to make it worse. He feels like he is missing some valuable piece of information that he should really be aware of. Instead of answering the questions he has lingering in his mind, he now finds himself with even more. Why were he and his father fighting? Why had his dad been bringing stuff out of his room? Why is his mother suddenly popping up in his dreams? Well, it's someone who's supposed to be his mother, but somehow he _knows_ that it's her. But Blaine hasn't dreamt about her in a long time, so why does she keep appearing mixed in with the images related to his father and that fire?

Did they talk about her? Fight about her? Did his dad come home drunk again and rage on about how it was a mistake to ever get involved with her, especially since it lead to him being stuck with Blaine as his responsibility?

Blaine just isn't sure, and for some reason the more he thinks about her the more panicky he begins to feel.

The nightmares weren't the only thing that left Blaine feeling uneasy all night. There was also the whole mess with Jen weighing heavily on his mind. He feels a chill run down his spine just at the thought of his father's face when he walked in to find Jen, Carole, and Joey trying to discuss what had happened between them.

He wonders if what he told them was enough to convince them to leave this alone. Or how long Jen would be able to keep his father away from him. Not that he thinks that it will make any difference - no matter if he sees his father in one day's or one week's time, it won't quell any of the angry he is harboring towards Blaine at the moment. In fact, it will probably only give him more time to let his resentment fester into something greater in his mind.

Blaine lets out a long breath and wonders just how long he will be stuck in this hospital. In a way, it's a to be here; at least he's safe at the moment. But on the other hand he longs for the comfort of his own room. He misses being able to do what he wants, and having all his stuff within reach. Admittedly, he is kind of bored here, with nothing to do but stare at the wall or sleep, and sleep isn't coming easily. He wants his computer, or his iPod to keep him company. Music would be great right now.

More than anything, he wants to find comfort in the one way he knows always works - to venture into his closet and pull out that black case, allowing himself to sit for a while just casually running his fingers over the old strings to create some sort of sound in the overwhelming quiet. It's always soothing. Again, he feels a slight feeling of panic slowly wash over him as he thinks about anything that is connected to his mother.

He looks out the window to the hospital hall, watching as two nurses pass pulling on their heavy coats. He's pretty sure it's shift change, and knows that means that Elena won't be back to check on him today. Elena is the sweet older nurse who had checked on him throughout the night, and Blaine had really grown fond of her. If she knew anything about his story, she didn't comment on it. She never asked him any questions, just talked to him reassuringly every time she came in to find him sitting wide awake in his bed. It was welcome relief from his overactive mind.

He finds himself wishing for someone to come in and distract him soon. Someone will have to come in to take Elena's place. A small part of him wishes for Joey or Carole to open his door. Even if he doesn't want to deal with the whole Social Services mess, they both somehow manage to make him feel a little better.

Blaine hears the door handle start to turn, and he feels a little glimmer of hope that it will be one of them. Which is why he can barely even swallow when instead of Joey's crooked smile, or Carole's warm face he is greeted by the tight-lipped grimace and cold eyes of his father.

They stare at each for a moment - Blaine blinking with a light fluttering of eye lashes, trying to make sure that he's not dreaming, and his father drawing his facial features together into a tight scowl that does nothing to cover up the harsh look he's giving Blaine.

Blaine tries to make words come out of his mouth, but he's pretty sure he's doing his best impression of a fish at the moment. His father does not seem at all amused by it.

"Da-dad," finally leaves his lips after getting stuck on the first try. His voice bounces around, sounding hoarse and dry. Blaine swallows down hard, but it does nothing to make his mouth work better.

"I thought yo…are you suppos…what are you doing here?"

Blaine shoots a longing look towards the window, hoping that a nurse or someone would pass by and see what was going on. But the odds of it being someone who would actually take the time to look into his room, and understand who exactly was in the room alone with him seemed pretty slim. Especially since it is shift change time, and the nurses who had been filled in on the situation were leaving at the moment. Blaine's heart stutters at the thought that his father probably planned for just this. He probably has Dr. Chamberlain buying him time up at the nurse's station.

"We need to talk, and I wasn't going to sit around waiting for that woman to give me the okay to speak to my own son when you're in here spreading lies about me."

"I didn't, I wasn't," he sputters out. His father steps closer, making his way into the room. It's pure instinct for Blaine to shift back into the bed, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

"So they just started butting into our personal lives all on their own then? Don't lie to me Blaine," his father's voice bellows echoing in the quiet of the hospital. It's out of place, and his father realizes it quickly as he pauses, waiting to see if he drew attention to himself. After a moment that feels like an eternity to Blaine as he prays that somebody did notice it, his father continues, lowering his voice to a deadly whisper that scares Blaine just as much as the raised tone. "I think you've done enough of that over the past few days, don't you?"

Blaine shuts his mouth and nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. He tries taking in a deep breath through his nose in hopes to calm his nerves. Nothing could happen right now, they were in the middle of a hospital with people all over the place. His father couldn't actually hurt him.

But once they got home…Blaine's mind supplied the thought without his permission. He had to put this issue to rest now.

"They came to me…I didn't say anything."

His father looks at him disbelievingly, holding Blaine in his unwavering gaze. After a moment, Blaine has to look away, eyes falling to his lap. "I..I told them I remembered falling, and I do. It was all my fault."

"Well, you certainly got that right," his father snorts out. "I still can't believe the audacity you had bringing that _thing _into my house!"

His father's rage kicks back up a notch, as he slams a foot into the chair next to Blaine's bed. Blaine startles at the noise, but quickly recovers as he tries to piece together his father's words. What is he talking about? He scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion, and debates whether he should really bring the topic up. But in the end he just has to know.

"I...what? What did I bring into the house?"

"Don't play dumb, Blaine," his father warns, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I'm not," he answers quickly, not wanting his father to think he is just making up excuses. "I really don't remember anything about that night, except for when I fell." He purposely leaves out the part about remembering when his father was beating him because there was just no need to get into that.

"So you don't remember how you lied straight to my face about being in that stupid musical?"

Oh.

Blaine shakes his head slowing, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears. No he definitely hadn't remembered his father finding out about that. He bites his lip, and hangs his head dejectedly. Shit.

"Or how about when I went to see about what else you had been lying about, and I found all that crap hidden in your closet."

For a moment it seems like it's impossible for him to breathe. His chest is trying to expand, trying to pull in that needed air, but nothing is happening.

There are flashes of images racing through his mind.

His dad ripping things out of the closet.

_His father has already emptied out most of his closet and brought it down to the living room until he could dispose of it properly…_

The way his chest tightened as it dawned on him what his father was inching closer to finding.

_Shit! No, no, no. He has to get his father away from the closet. Far away from that case, and those small boxes that Blaine had carefully tucked away in there years ago. _

The moment he found it.

_He knows the exact moment that his father's eyes fall onto the small black case. He can see the way his body freezes up, and can hear the little gasp of air that escapes his mouth, like someone punched him hard in the stomach. _

He remembers feeling sick, so sick that he could have passed out in that second, could have fallen to the ground because he knew that there was no turning back from that moment. He had committed the ultimate betrayal in his father's eyes, and there was no saving him from the repercussions.

But he still doesn't remember what happened next. What happened to his mother's stuff? He's not exactly sure how much damage was done that night, but he has a feeling most of his stuff was ruined. Did that mean that the violin was gone forever? His stomach turns over at the thought that it might very well be gone, laying in a pile of ashes on the living room floor. Had he really lost the one thing that connected him to his mother? He can't even begin to comprehend that. He doesn't really have time to dwell on the thought, as his father's icy voice brings him back to the present as it sends chills racing down his spine.

"How convenient," he spits out. "Poor little Blaine can't remember how he screwed up. Must mean that it was all his evil old father's fault. Is that what you told them? That I caused that fire."

Blaine shakes his head fervently, as he tries to swallow down the bile rising in his throat.

"No, sir. It was my fault. All my fault," he mumbles the last part to himself, as he tries to blink back tears. Blaine's mind is racing, trying too quickly to comprehend what is going on. What is he going to do? He messed everything up.

"Damn straight it was your fault. That's all your good for isn't it Blaine, for fucking things up. For breaking things. For ruining everything with your stupid mistakes."

Blaine raises his head to meet his father eyes. The intensity of the hate seeping through his gaze hits into Blaine like someone punched him in the gut. There is no turning back from this. His usual mantra of 'two more years, two more years' is sounding off in his head, but its strength is dying out with each passing repetition. How is he going to survive living in a house with a man that hates him so fiercely? How is he even supposed to survive the first week back?

Blaine's eyes close as he hugs himself protectively. He can just imagine how it will go. Punching, kicking, slamming, the sound of glass breaking, drunken screaming. The deafening roar of fire.

"Do you think you'd better off without me? Is that your plan? To make these people feel sorry for you so that you can get away from me?"

His father is pacing back and forth across the room, too worked up to stand still, his arms making frantic, erratic movements.

"What are you going to do when I'm not there to clean up your mess, you think your life is going to be easier then! Do you really think that you could survive one minute without me Blaine. You want to leave me, then do it, in fact it'll probably be the best thing you've ever done for me. But we both know the truth is that you can't, you need me. You need me to keep fixing what you mess up. Do you really think any of those people really care about you, do you think any one of them is going to want to care of you. No one wants you Blaine, you'd just be another burden."

Two more years, two more years. He'll be home free. He _can_ leave then, he _will_ leave. He just needs a little more time, that's all. He almost has enough money saved up to get out of this town, to go far way and never look back. He just has to make it two more years.

"We don't even have a house right, now! Do you know how much it is going to cost me for repairs! I'm not made of money, Blaine. I can't keep bailing you out every time you mess up. What about these hospital bills you keep racking up? Do you think this little visits are for free?"

So stop putting me in here, he pleads in his mind.

Just two more years, Blaine.

"It's time you start paying for your mistakes. Starting with the house repairs. I've already emptied out your account to start paying for the damage."

Cold. Blaine feels ice cold, he's pretty sure all the blood has stopped dead in his body. If the world hadn't stopped spinning before, it certainly had now. He's trapped; there is no way out of this mess. His one string of hope was dangled in front of his face, and then swiftly pulled away when he tried to reach out for it.

No. No, no, no, no. He had two more years, damnit!

"What! You cant. You can't. That's all my savings!"

His dad just shrugs - _sucks for you_.

"Somebody has to pay for it, and it's not going to be me."

"I need that money!"

Blaine feels himself getting worked up, but he can't seem to listen to the little voice inside his head yelling shut up, shut up, shut up.

"You have no right to—"

"I have no right!" His dad bellows.

Suddenly, he's right at Blaine' side, way to close for comfort. Blaine tries to slide away, but his father's hand snakes out, latching onto Blaine's arm right were there's a bandage covering his burn from the flames.

"Arggh," Blaine moans out, trying to twist away. "Ow, let go!"

His dad just digs his fingers in tighter, making tears spring up into Blaine's eyes.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what I can or can not do! You," he shakes Blaine's arm roughly, "are the one who has right. How dare you bring that damned woman's things back into my home after I told you they were trash!"

"Dad, please stop. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>Carole arrives at the hospital earlier than she usually does. She had trouble sleeping the night before, her mind constantly drifting back to Blaine. After an hour of tossing and turning this morning, she decided it was pointless to sit in bed any longer.<p>

She hopes that maybe she could talk to Blaine before the morning gets too hectic, wanting to try to see if she can convince him to open up a little more. She knows there is something he is keeping from them, and if she can just convince him to tell the truth then they could help him. Maybe they would even be able to press charges against Mr. Anderson if Blaine is willing to speak out.

She makes her way to the nurse's station, waving goodbye to some of her coworkers as they leave for the morning and head home to sleep. Glancing around she notices that's there's no sign of Elena anywhere. Carole was hoping to ask her about how Blaine faired throughout the night before she left. She places her jacket and bag at her desk, and debates if she should wait for Joey to come in before trying to talk to Blaine. It might be good to have some more encouragement, and especially from someone as easy going and likeable as Joey.

A minute passes, and she already feels too anxious sitting around waiting for him to show up. She has an insistent need to go and make sure that the boy is okay, especially since she wasn't able to get him off her mind all night. Maybe having both of them in there would be too overwhelming for Blaine anyway.

No time like the present she thinks as she walks down the hallway towards Blaine's room. She's halfway down the hall when she hears raised voices, and it makes her pause her steps. She glances around trying to discern what direction they are coming from. Her eyes land on the window to Blaine's room, and she steps closer to take a quick look to see if she could get a glimpse of the boy. The sight she finds makes her heart skip a beat.

Mr. Anderson is bent over Blaine, practically inches from his face, yelling right at him. Blaine is twisting, and turning away from him. It takes her a moment to realize that Mr. Anderson's hand is forming a vice-like grip around Blaine's arm - right where some of his bandages cover the skin. Blaine looks absolutely terrified, and he keeps mouthing something to his father.

She stares, dumbstruck by the scene before her. How did he even get in there? They had security on the lookout for him. It only takes her a second longer to realize that Blaine keeps repeating, 'I'm sorry' as he tries to pull free from his father's harsh grasp. She's flying into the room before another second even passes.

"Get away from him!" Her voice comes out loud, and strong, startling two pairs of eyes to look at her. She has never seen so much fear in someone's gaze as she did in Blaine's wide eyes at that moment. His face is tear streaked, and he is shaking; she can see the trembles traveling down his body from here.

Mr. Anderson drops his son's arm quickly, taking a step back. Blaine cradles it close to his chest as soon as he does, angling it away from his father.

"Look, this is all a big misunder-"

"Don't," she cuts off. She leans back through the doorway, never taking her eyes off Jack.

"I need Chad," she yells out, hoping that someone would hear her.

"This is just a big misunderstanding. I just wanted to see my son, I was worried about him."

"Clearly," she mumbles, before calling out, "CHAD!"

"Tell her Blaine," Mr. Anderson looks towards his son, reaching out to nudge him lightly when he doesn't answer.

"Don't you dare touch him!" The warning must be clear in her tone because Mr. Anderson raises his hands up, as if meaning to show he means no harm and takes a step backwards.

Blaine looks like he's in a daze as he glances back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes.

Carole feels a rush of relief as she hears strong footsteps approaching from behind her as Chad, one of the security guys on the floor, walks through the doorway.

"Carole, what's wrong?" Chad stops right behind her. "I thought he wasn't supposed to be in here."

Carole shakes her head. "He's not. Can you please take him somewhere else, and tell someone that they need to contact Jen from Social Services right away."

"Now I really don't think that will be necessary." Mr. Anderson tries again to persuade her that she had gotten the whole thing wrong, but luckily Chad isn't falling for it either. He walks over to Mr. Anderson and puts a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the room as he says "It would be better if you just keep your mouth shut now."

She watches Jack as he allows himself to be led without a fight out of the room and down the hallway, never once glancing back towards his son. She finds her own gaze drifting towards the boy, who is now turned away from her, breathing heavily and cradling his arm. She could still see the slight shake in his shoulders. She moves closer to him slowly, wary of startling him even more.

"Are you okay, honey?"

Blaine doesn't answer, just pulls further into himself. She wants to put a hand out and offer him some contact as a means of reassurance, but fears it would only make things worse.

"Blaine?"

"What the hell is going on?"

Joey is standing in the doorway, his jacket half hanging off his body with one arm falling out of it. "I saw Chad with Mr. Anderson."

She takes one last look at Blaine, debating whether she should walk to the other side of the bed to get a better look at him. Feeling that letting him have his privacy would be more important, she gently lays her hand across his blanketed foot for a quick moment to get his attention. "Just try to relax for a little while Blaine. We're going to work this out. If you need anything just press the button for the nurse's station and someone will come right away."

She turns to Joey, and ushers him out of the door. Before she pulls it close, she pauses and adds, "Everything will be alright," praying that he would trust her enough to believe it.

* * *

><p>Carol finds her eyes traveling to the closed door throughout the next couple of hours, but each time it's still closed firmly in place.<p>

It took Jen thirty minutes to get down to the hospital after they called. Chad had been sitting with Jack (and in an empty room until she arrived, looking as polished and professional as ever. She had nodded along as Carole recounted what had happened that morning, asking a few question and writing some things down in a small red notebook she carried with her. After she got all the facts, she had entered the room to join the two men waiting inside, and had closed the door behind her. It hasn't opened since.

Carole finds herself sitting at her desk, just staring at it. What was going on in there? Would Mr. Anderson walk away without any punishment? Would he still be taking Blaine home despite what Carole witnessed?

Hearing a loud sigh, she looks up to find Joey leaning against the front of her desk, his own gaze focused on the closed door.

"No word yet."

"Not yet."

He just nods, before looking down at her. "I just went to check on Blaine."

Carole's eyes rip away from the door, and up into Joey's worried gaze.

"I don't know if he's just scared out of his mind or what, but I couldn't get him to talk to me. Hell, I couldn't even get him to look at me. I don't even think he moved the whole time I was in the room. He's just…there but not really there you know?" Joey runs a hand through his messy hair.

Carole lets out a sigh. The worry that has been growing in the pit of her stomach for the young boy since she met him has increased triple fold throughout the morning, but she doesn't think there's anything they can do for him at the moment. Once they know what's going on with Mr. Anderson and Jen it will be much easier to help Blaine.

She's about to reply when the door finally opens, bringing their attention back to it. Jen emerges from the room, and Carole can immediately tell that it didn't go the way Jen had wanted it to. For the first time since Carole met her, the woman looks flustered. She turns halfway in the doorway to tell something to Chad, who was still in the room with Mr. Anderson, and it doesn't sound very pleasant. Jen quickly approaches the desk, rubbing at her temples.

"Do you think it would be possible to get me any aspirin?"

"It went that well?" Carole asks as she fishes around in one of her drawers for the bottle of aspirin she keeps, and Joey runs to grab Jen a cup of water from the nearest water cooler.

After she pops the pill in her mouth, and downs the cup of water offered from Joey, Jen finally manages to spit out, "That man is horrible."

"What's going to happen? Are you pressing charges?" Joey looks a little sheepish at his outburst of questions, but they both turn to look at Jen expectantly, dying to know what is going on.

"I still don't have enough evidence yet."

"But Carole saw—"

"I know," Jen starts in, "I know, but I still have a Doctor wandering these halls who is sticking to his certified statement that Blaine received all those bruises from his tumble down the stairs, and I doubt any of Mr. Anderson's other friends are going to step forward and make a claim against the guy. And according to the one teacher I was finally able to contact last night, there is truth to the bullying story that Jack told. In fact, it took a lot of prompting to get the teacher to even recall who Blaine was, and even then all he could remember was the fact that he's seen Blaine being tossed into a dumpster a couple of times. It also really doesn't help that the only statement I've gotten from Blaine is that he remembers getting hurt in the accident."

"So that's it then?" Carole asks, her heart breaking at the thought that even what she witnessed this morning wouldn't be enough to help Blaine. "He's just going to go home with his father?"

Jen looks off to the side for a moment, giving her head a tiny sad shake. "Mr. Anderson is giving the custody of Blaine over to the state. He's signing the papers today, and then Blaine is no longer legally tied to him."

Joey stands up, "Can he do that?"

"Legally yes he can."

"He can just sign away the rights to his son, and it's legal."

"Yes," Jen agrees, "I don't know if he thinks it's the best way to get out of the situation or what, but he…he wouldn't listen to any reasoning, just said that he made his decision and he wants Blaine out of his life."

Joey just stares at her, his mouth hanging open. "I don't understand. I mean what happens now? Did you get in contact with some of his other family yet? Can they come get him?"

Carole doesn't like were this conversation is going one bit, especially at the way Jen's face keeps falling her pleasant professional mask into one of deep sorrow. She waits, watching Jen as she rubs again at her temple, and tries to prepare herself for what is coming next. '

"He doesn't have any," Jen says slowly. "Jack's father, Blaine's grandfather, passed away about two years ago. His grandmother has been living in a home ever since, and she's not fit to take care of him. Mr. Anderson had one brother, but he passed away in a car crash when they were kids. And I doubt that any of Mr. Anderson's friends are going to be willing to step up and help Blaine out." She pauses to give them a halfhearted shrug before continuing, "and his teacher mentioned that Blaine doesn't interact with anyone at school outside the incidents where he's getting picked on, so I think that rules him going to stay with a friend out."

"What about his mother? Where is she, can we contact her?" Joey asks, his voice rising to a panicky level.

Jen covers her eyes with her hand for a moment, before giving them a small rueful smile. "She apparently took off when Blaine was around 5. No one has heard from her since. Jack believes she went back to the Philippines where all her family was still living. He says he had tried to find her for years, but had to give up."

Joey lets a breath of harsh sounding laughter, and it makes a shiver run down Carole's spine. "You're kidding me right?"

Jen looks between both of their stricken faces; her eyes lingering on Joey who has his fists curled into fists at his side and is shaking his head, disbelievingly.

"Look, Blaine is going to be fine. We're going to take good care of him. He's going to be staying at one of our shelters, at least until I can look into a proper foster home for him. I can go to the office as soon as I finish up here and arrange for a room to be set up for him. You guys did the right thing by reporting this even if it didn't end with the results we hoped for. I have to talk to Blaine now, and explain what's going on."

Carole doesn't envy Jen in that moment even in the slightest amount – how do you even begin to tell a kid that their own parent decided that they didn't want them anymore.

"Is his father going to speak to him?" Joey asks, jutting his chin in the direction of the closed door.

Jen simply shakes her head, before she turns towards the hall leading to Blaine's room.

"So his father is going to walk out on him, and he's not even going to explain to his own kid why. He's not even going to say goodbye to him."

"Joey," Carole tries to soothe him, placing a hand on his arm, but he rips it away.

"No, no this is just messed up. What the hell did I do?" he mutters before he storms off towards one of the exits, and Carole lets him go knowing that he just needs some time to think.

She needs her own time to think, because she understands too well what he is feeling at the moment.

What _did_ they just do to this poor boy? She can't help but feel she played some hand in getting him forced out of his own home. For some reason it would have felt completely different if they were the ones taking Blaine away; if they were the ones to tell Mr. Anderson that he couldn't be a part of his life anymore.

But this? This just felt backwards, and wrong. It's a completely new situation when Mr. Anderson is the one in control, because it only leads to the single idea of Blaine being abandoned rather than saved.

She finds her feet moving of there own accord in the direction that Jen just traveled, down the hall until she's standing by the edge of the large piece of glass in the wall. She peeks in.

There's Jen sitting in the corner by Blaine's bed. Carole can see her lips moving, but can't make out any of the words.

And then there's Blaine, looking so small and young. He staring out into space, and Carole knows that Jen already told him what's going on, because he just looks lost, like he's trying to comprehend something that's just out of his grasp.

Carole feels the same way. She could never imagine walking out on Finn, could never imagine giving him away no matter how tough things got. He is her son, her baby, and she will always be there for him. She will always love him in every possible way.

How did this wonderful boy sitting before her have two parents who didn't feel as strongly as she did?

Carole can't stop the guilt that ripples through her - the feelings of responsibility and fault for messing up his life even more, even if she knows deep down that it was the right thing to do, hitting into her every few seconds. She just wishes there was a way she could fix some of this.

* * *

><p>Blaine is 16 when his father abandons him.<p>

It doesn't feel anything like when his mother left.

He stares blankly at Jen, who's still trying to explain to him what happens next, but it's like she's speaking in a foreign language to him; he just can't follow the conversation.

He knows he should be listening; that this is important. Sixteen years old, no money, and no place to go.

Blaine vaguely registers the fact that he should be panicking. He should be feeling that all too familiar fluttering in his chest. His hands should be shaking. He should feel that desperate speeding up of his heart, and that wave of nauseous that comes when you know deep down that things are truly, utterly screwed up.

Blaine vaguely thinks he should be crying - feeling hurt, and alone, and abandoned. He's pretty sure he cried when his mother left.

Blaine should feel something, anything. But he doesn't.

His father's departure from his life doesn't seem as surprising as the first time. In fact, it seems more like it was only a matter of time. Inevitable really. Maybe he's just used to it by the now, the fact that people walk away, leaving him to take care of himself. It's just a simple matter of fact in Blaine's life.

He knows for sure that this time was his fault. The small tiny inkling of hope doesn't even form in his mind that his father might have a change of heart.

Jen's voice is still floating around the room, swirling in and out of his awareness like rising smoke. He tries again to focus, but it's as easy as grasping smoke in his hands as it's dancing higher and higher towards the sky.

Her face is a calm mask of emotions. Blaine studies it for a moment as she looks at him. He can see the pity breaking through the cracks of the mask.

Blaine should feel something, but nothingness is the only thing that pervades.

Emptiness creeps throughout him, seeping through like the deadening cold; slowing penetrating through every part of his body till he all he feels is numb.

Until he doesn't feel anything at all.

* * *

><p><strong>So thoughtscomments?**

**And I want to thank you all for bearing with me as we got through all this beginning stuff, but don't worry – Blaine isn't going to be going to any shelter. A nice family is going to offer to take him in, any ideas who they might be? :P **

**So that means that Blaine will be meeting a certain boy in the next chapter, and I am so excited for that! We finally get to shift our focus to the Kurt/Blaine side of this story (which is really why I started this whole thing- I had no clue it would take this long to get there, so thank you again for being so patient with me!) I hope it makes you all feel better to know that I have a whole list of scenes between the boys already outlined in my notebook :D **


	6. After the Storm, Part A

**Chapter 6: After the Storm, Part A**

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Glee or any of the characters used in this story. **

**Warnings: more Blaine angst, physical and verbal abuse, language **

**Spoilers: Slight spoilers for season three's Yes/No (Information about the Hudson family) **

**Author's Note: Thank you all again for your wonderful reviews, and alerts! It means so much to me to hear your thoughts! ;) **

**Okay this chapter got pretty long, so you get half of it now and the rest tomorrow after I finish the last two scenes. Again, thank you all so much for being so patient. Updates should be on a more regular basis now.**

* * *

><p>Carole winds up calling the hospital multiple times that night to check up on Blaine, worrying about the lack of progress they made with him before her shift that morning was over.<p>

He had sat quietly while Jen tried her best to explain everything that was going on since she talked with his father, and what would happen next. When she had finished, his only response was to politely ask if he could be left alone. So they had tried to respect his wishes, feeling that they owed him that much – Joey or Carole only entering his room if it was time to check him out again, or to administer more medication. By the time Carole stood with her coat on after checking over each of her patients one last time, the fact that Blaine was still horribly distant had her more than a little anxious.

So every hour since she had gotten home, she calls up the nurse's station trying to find out how the young boy is doing – but each time she's told that the situation is exactly the same.

It's almost midnight when she finally decides to head to bed, having been sitting alone in the living room watching TV long after Burt went up to sleep. She just hadn't felt like she would have been able to wind down yet, and the thought of sitting in bed tossing and turning, and keeping Burt awake seemed pointless. So instead, she's been lounging on the couch trying to focus on the old reruns playing on the TV until she finally feels tired enough to go to sleep. Before she can make her feet travel up the stairs, however, her hand is already closing around the phone and dialing that familiar number.

"Hello, Sheppard Hospital. This is Hannah speaking, how may I help you?"

Carole is relieved to hear Hannah's voice on the line since she is Blaine's nurse again for the night. Hannah had been extremely apologetic when Carole had filled her in on the details that afternoon, and completely horrified by the fact that if it hadn't been for Joey she would have just sent Blaine back home with his father.

"Hey Hannah, it's Carole again."

"Oh hi, what are you still doing up? Don't you have to be in here early tomorrow?"

"Yes, unfortunately I do," Carole agrees, thinking that she will regret it in the morning when her alarm starts going off.

"You're just as bad as Joey," Hannah admits softly, "He still won't go home either." She pauses for a moment, letting out a small sigh before continuing, "He won't eat."

"Who Joey or Blaine?"

"Both," Hannah replies, "and you know something is wrong when Joey refuses cookies. Right now, he's sleeping in the chair in Blaine's room. I can't even get him to go sleep in the on call room."

"Has Blaine said anything?"

"No, he's mostly been asleep. But he still won't talk to us even when he's awake. We've all tried; he barely even acknowledges us."

Carole lets out a long, disappointed breathe. "Okay well just keep trying to get him to eat something, and if Joey wakes up tell him I said to go home."

* * *

><p>Joey never went home; Carole finds him and Hannah sitting on the floor in the small hallway in front of the supply closet when she arrives at the hospital that morning.<p>

Joey looks terrible, with large bags under his eyes and scruffier than usual. They each have a cup of coffee in their hands, and there's a third one resting on the floor next to Hannah's legs. Hannah passes it up to Carole when she stops in front of them. "My treat," she offers as an explanation as Carole takes the cup and murmurs out a quick thanks before raising the cup to her lips. She could definitely use the caffeine this morning.

"How are things?" she asks after she takes another sip.

Hannah throws her a sharp look before turning her gaze to Joey. "He's sleep deprived and thinking crazy."

"I've thought this through," Joey says, defensively.

"Joey you're insane," Hannah says, but it's more loving that hurtful. She takes his hand, "It would be too much to take on and you don't have the room."

"I could sleep on the couch and I could pick up extra shifts, maybe even get a different place eventually."

Carole raises her eyebrows at Hannah, trying to follow the conversation.

"Joey thinks that he can take Blaine home with him."

Carole stares at Joey, feeling heart swell. She has never loved him more than in that moment, but she knows that Hannah is right; Joey can't take on that responsibility right now.

"Oh Joey."

"No don't 'oh Joey' me, like I'm a child who thinks that it's okay to feed your goldfish the rest of your chocolate milk."

Hannah throws him a questioning look, a snort slipping out accidentally.

He waves his hand in a quick dismal, "I was like three and it wasn't even my idea in the first place. I'm an adult now, I have a job. I can do this"

"Maybe you'd be messing up the plan. Maybe Daddy Warbucks is waiting to take him in and buy him everything he ever wanted."

Joey just stares at her, clearly not amused.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she says, holding up her hands in surrender. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood here."

Joey lets his face fall forward, long hair sweeping across his face and shielding it from view.

"It was just different, you know, when I thought he was going to be taken away from his father and be able to go somewhere safe. I kept imagining part of his family taking him in and giving him the home he always needed, but now? Now that his father just gave him up without a second thought and he has to go live in a shelter. I feel like I messed up."

"You did the right thing."

Carole knows that she should chime in with Hannah, but she would be lying if she didn't say she feels the exact same way.

"You've done all you can for him."

"All I've done is messed this up even more," he admits, letting a soft fist hit down upon the ground in quiet frustration.

"Don't listen to those idiots, Joey." Hannah turns to Carole with fiery eyes, "That idiot Jason, you know Chamberlain's pet, was getting on to Joey because he believes Anderson and the doctor, so he's been giving him grief like he did last time."

"But he's right in a way, and I just want to fix it," Joey interjects.

"Joey," Hannah demurs firmly. "Are you really going to help him by making him stay in an empty apartment all alone while you work crazy hours to pay the bills. And what about Catherine?"

"Catherine," Joey squeaks, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Wha-what about her?"

Hannah rolls her eyes, "Please everyone here - accept maybe Catherine herself - knows that you are crushing on her, and do you really think when you finally get the nerve to ask her out that a good pick up line is going to be would you like to come have dinner with me and the sixteen year old I took in?"

Joey shoots her a death glare, as he runs a hand through his hair.

Hannah softens again, "I feel horrible for him too, I do, and I wish there was something one of us could do, but Joey come on, you know you can't take on this responsibility right now."

He glances up to Carole with a pleading look in his eyes, begging her to deny what he says next, "I can't take him home can I?"

"No," Carole shakes her head sadly. She feels just like she did all those years ago when she told 10-year-old Finn that they just didn't have the space or money for a dog after he had spent all day begging and promising that he would take good care it.

Joey lets his head fall back against the wall. "I hate it when I know you two are right."

* * *

><p>Joey's idea stays in her head all morning. Is it really so crazy? Yes, Hannah is right; Joey is working his butt off already trying to keep his apartment, and pay off college loans – it would be too much for one young man to handle, even if his heart is in the right place.<p>

But Blaine could go to a foster home instead of the shelter, and it would be much easier for a family with two working adults to support him. He might do well living with a nice family – maybe one that included a nurse, a car mechanic and two boys his own age.

Once the thought was put in her head, she couldn't shake it out. They had the room, having just moved in to a bigger house in early December. The guest bedroom has been sitting ready for someone to test it out since her and Kurt finished decorating the space before Christmas. It could easily turn into Blaine's room.

Carole dials Burt's work number, hoping he can meet her for lunch.

* * *

><p>They're sitting in a small café down the street from the hospital, eating sandwiches at a small table near the back. Burt isn't looking at her like she's grown three heads, but he still sits in a pretty stunned silence. She takes his lack of argument as a chance to continue.<p>

"Burt, I know this sounds pretty crazy, but I want to do this."

"You want to adopt him?" Burt questions, and she can tell he's just trying to understand what is going on in her head.

"No… I don't know. Maybe." She sighs and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Maybe, if it works out well; if he likes it with us. Or at least he could be safe with us until they find an appropriate place for him to go. He's sixteen Burt, soon he'll be off to college, and…"

"Exactly," Burt interrupts, "We already have two boys at home that need to go college, college that we have to pay for. Do we really want to take on another?"

Carole looks down at her plate, tearing apart a small piece of bread left over from her meal.

"I forced him into the system, Burt. I took a boy away from his home, and now he has to sleep in a strange place and not in his own bed every night and it's all my fault."

"Carole, you know that's not true. You did the right thing. You took him away from his father. Do you think it would have been better to send him back to an unsafe home?"

"No, but how do I know this place will be safe, Burt? Anything could happen to him at that shelter, and then even if Jen finds him a family, they could be worse then his father. There's just so much that could happen to him, and I would be partly to blame. I want to give him a new start, somewhere safe."

She looks Burt in the eye, and grabs his hand. "Burt, when Kurt was younger and it was just you and him, did you ever wonder about where he would go if something bad happened to you? I used to worry about Finn all the time, especially when," she pauses because the thoughts are painful to even bring up. "Especially when his father came back, and he was having all those problems. I mean Christopher was trying so hard to get better for Finn so he could be in his life, but I always remember this one night when I found some of his drugs hidden in our dresser, and I just got so mad…because all I could think about was what if someone found out? What if someone besides me had found that stash, and turned us in. What would happen to Finn? I kept picturing someone coming to take him away from me if his father wasn't able to straighten himself out, I kept picturing my little boy scared and alone in some shelter, or someone else's home and that scared me more than anything. Blaine obviously doesn't have a father who shares the same fears I do, but I don't want that to happen to anyone's kid."

Burt closes his other hand on top of their already clasped hands on the table. She glances down at them, drawing comfort and strength just from the sight.

She continues, "I feel like he was sent to me for a reason, like we're supposed to help him. It just feels like the right thing to do."

It's quiet for a moment, as Carole breathes deeply and wipes at her eyes. She knows she's asking a lot. Her and Burt just got married almost two months ago. They are all still trying to get used to the idea of being one family, and she wants to change the dynamic again. But she also knows that Burt would do the same thing if he was in her position; that he would never be able to watch a kid struggle and not offer them some kind of lifeline.

"So who wants to tell the boys that they get to be big brothers?"

Carol laughs, and leans over to kiss Burt on the lips. There is a reason she loves this man, and a reason why she feels like the luckiest woman in the world to be able to be a part of his life. She just hopes that Blaine will feel the same way.

* * *

><p>Telling the boys is a lot harder than the conversation she had with Burt.<p>

Heck, it is harder than the discussion she had to have with Jen after her lunch with Burt. Jen had been a little wary of agreeing to let them become Blaine's foster home, especially since she and Burt had only recently gotten married and had two boys of their own. But she also had said that she knew Carole really cared about the situation, and that it would be wonderful to find Blaine a home where the people really wanted what was best for him. They agreed that Jen would bring Blaine over to their house the next day after he is discharged to let him make his own decision. As long as everything went well with tonight that is; everyone was in agreement that nothing would happen if Kurt and Finn were completely against the idea, which is why no one even mentioned it to Blaine yet.

And so now here Carole sits, at table in Breadsticks – they both felt it would be a good idea to try to soften the boys up by bringing them out to dinner - trying to find the right words to tell them what they wanted to do.

But so far it isn't going so well.

"Wait," Finn says pausing in his current attack on a breadstick. "Are you like pregnant or something?"

Kurt starts choking on the water he had just casually sipped. "Oh dear god," he says as he raises a napkin to wipe at his mouth.

"Mom?" Finn asks, voice laced with fear.

Both boys are looking at them with wide eyes.

"No Finn," Carole says with a small chuckle, and both boys deflate as they let out relieved breaths.

"Don't do that to me, Finn," Kurt reprimands, holding a hand to his chest. "Not during dinner."

"What?" Burt asks with a grin. "You two would have something against me and Carole having a baby?"

"Don't joke dad," Kurt replies, shooting him a look.

Carole takes a breath, trying to start again. "We're not planning on having a baby, but we did, um want to talk to you two about maybe expanding our famil…"

Finn sits up excitedly, "Are we finally getting a dog?"

"Not a dog Finn," Carole sighs.

"Oh, a cat?"

"No listen…"

"A fish?" he scrunches his face up, "I guess that would be cool, if the tank goes in my room. Just not those guinea pigs things…"

"Why not?" Kurt interjects, giving Finn a puzzled look.

"Gremlins, dude, they remind me of gremlins."

"Ahh," Kurt nods his head.

"Boys," Burt interrupts, "Pay attention for a minute, will ya."

They both mumble apologies, and wait expectantly for Burt to continue.

"Okay look, here's the deal. Carole's been taking care of a boy at work this week, he's about your age, and right now he doesn't have a place to go. We were thinking about letting him stay with us for a while."

"Oh. Like for a couple of days?" Finn asks.

"Um longer than that honey," Carole says, "we would let him move in with us, for…well for as long as he likes."

"You want to adopt another kid?"

"No, not exactly. We would just be his foster home."

It's quiet for a moment as they all sit looking at each. Their waitress comes over to bring them their plates of food and Carole wonders if she can feel the awkward tension seeping around the table. She does leave pretty fast, telling them over her shoulder to let her know if they need anything else.

Kurt breaks the silence finally, as he leans forward to rest his head on his index finger and thumb as levels Burt with an uncertain gaze.

"I'm...confused?" He hesitates before continuing, "You two just got married, and you want to let someone move in with us? I…we haven't even finished unpacking everything in the new house yet, Carole and I haven't finished decorating. Is now really a good time to change the family dynamic again? Finn and I are still trying to get used to being brothers now, and I'm…" he tapers off at the end, looking off to the side and away from Burt's steady gaze on him. Carole wonders how he was going to finish that sentence.

_I'm still getting used to having a big family. I'm still trying to deal with the fact that it's not just you and me anymore. I'm still not used to sharing you. _

Burt seems to have a complete understanding of Kurt like he always does, and is quick to reassure him.

"Listen, kiddo, we're not trying to make you guys feel uncomfortable. You're still my son and you still come first, you'll always come first, Kurt. This thing we want to do doesn't mean I love you any less, and the same goes for you Finn. We'd never make this decision without your input, and we promise to listen to it. But look this kid doesn't have it like you two do, maybe you don't always agree with the fact, but Carole and I like to think we are pretty decent parents, and you two have it pretty lucky. This kid doesn't have it like that, he doesn't have a parent to support him, his own father is just giving him away and…"

"Wait, what?" Finn says, glancing between Burt and Carole. "What do you mean?"

Burt sighs knowing that he might have said a little too much. He takes his cap off, smoothing a hand over his head before placing it back.

"Look, we don't know Blaine's whole story, and it's not ours to tell. If he comes to stay with us, and he wants to tell us what exactly happened he will. But things don't seem to be great in his home life, and as of yesterday his father decided that he would rather sign Blaine over to the state then deal with his responsibilities as a father, which is a cowardly thing to do, but it is what it is. Blaine doesn't have anyone right now to take him in, which is why Carole and I thought we could offer him a safe place to stay."

Both boys sit, looking grimly at the table. Carole thinks that they may feel a little bad about how they first reacted now that know a little more about Blaine's situation.

Finn's voice questions softly as he furrows his eyebrows, "His father doesn't care what happens to him?"

Carole jumps into the conversation again, placing a warm hand over Finn's. "I know we are asking a lot from you two, and you don't have to answer right now. You can take the night to think about it, and whatever you guys decide it will be okay. Neither one of us will hold how you feel about the situation against you, and we won't be angry if you truly feel like it's a bad idea, but I just…please just think about for a little while and see if we could possibly help Blaine out."

They both nod, and she lets go of Finn's hand to lean back heavily into Burt comforting arm.

A couple of moments of silted silence pass before everyone picks up their utensils to start eating. Finn pauses to look back up at them, "So no pet then?"

* * *

><p>Kurt's sitting at his vanity, just getting ready to start his nightly moisturizing routine when's there a soft knock on his door.<p>

"Come in," he calls turning to watch the door as it opens slowly and reveals Finn on the other side.

"Hey dude, can we talk?"

"Sure," Kurt nods, putting down the bottle he had just been opening.

"I was going to bring you some warm milk, but last time I tried to make it, I just wound up burning it."

Finn plops down on the edge of Kurt's bed. Kurt roll his eyes as he stands to drag the small bench he was sitting on closer to the bed until its in front of Finn. He sits down and crosses his legs waiting for Finn to speak.

"Do you think it's weird? What my mom and Burt are doing?"

Kurt hesitates, because yeah he hasn't quite been able to wrap his head all the way around it yet either.

"I don't know," he sighs finally. "I mean yes in a way I find their sudden need to expand our already joined family a little weird, but then again…"

"You sort of feel bad about saying no, right?"

Kurt shrugs, and nods. It doesn't sound like this boy has many other options available.

"I keep thinking I would feel different if it were someone like Puck, or Sam. It's just the fact that it's a stranger who's just going to be moving in with us. It just seems weird, you know? But maybe it's not, I mean my mom took Quinn in without a second thought when she got kicked out."

Finn pauses, his gaze shifting around room as he takes in all the effort Kurt has put into it since they moved in a couple of weeks ago before they settle back on Kurt.

"You know, when Quinn's dad threw her out that night, I was so surprised."

Kurt just nods, trying not to let that little twinge of guilt he still feels over that resurface. If he hadn't pushed Finn to tell Quinn's father…

"I kept waiting for him to stop that timer on the microwave, and tell her that she could stay, but he never did. I never thought that a parent would actually do that to their own kid. Even before I told my mom, yeah, I was really scared, but I thought that she would be mad – Really, really mad. And I thought she would be disappointed – that's what scared me the most. I never once thought that she would kick me out. I just can't imagine what that must feel like."

Finn is right of course. Neither of them has ever had to experience what it would feel like to have a parent that just didn't want their own kid in their life anymore. But Kurt may have spent more time worrying about that than Finn.

Back when he was still in the closet – at school, and at home.

Back when he wasn't sure if his football loving, Deadliest-Catch-watching father would be so understanding of his gay son.

Back when Kurt spent nights sitting self-loathingly on his bed blasting Madonna or Whitney Houston or the Wicked soundtrack after another failed attempt at coming out to his father before once again chickening out at the last second because he was just scared. Scared of being a disappointment. Scared of being turned away. Scared of his father not loving him anymore because he wouldn't be able to accept who Kurt was.

In the deepest, darkest parts of his mind, he imagined his father telling him to get out, that he never wanted to see him again. The thought of losing Burt was unbearable, and the idea of it being because of the fact that he suddenly hated Kurt kept him from being honest with his father, even though lying to him made him sick in the pit of his stomach. It was simple fear that kept him from confiding in his father until last year.

Kurt knows that he is extraordinarily lucky to have a father like Burt, and he is thankful every day that instead of kicking him out, Burt embraced him with open, loving arms and told him he was proud of him.

Kurt knows only the fear of not having that, and to imagine some boy sitting alone in a hospital room because his father, for whatever reason, couldn't love him the way Burt loves Kurt, really does break his heart. Because Finn is right, what would it feel like with that as your reality?

And who were Kurt and Finn to say that this boy couldn't at least have someone like Burt and Carole in his life.

Finn speaks up first, breaking Kurt out of his thoughts. "I think we have to let this guy move in with us."

"Yes," Kurt agrees. "I think it's the right thing to do."

Finn throws him a smile, "Hey maybe it will be kind of cool. We'll have a little brother hanging around. Maybe he'll look up to us"

"Finn," Kurt laughs, with a slight eye roll. "Carole says he's about our age. A year younger at most."

"Whatever, we've been here longer so he's still the younger brother. I'll tell mom and Burt before I go to bed so that mom quits hovering."

Returning to his nightly routine, Kurt can't help but wonder what this Blaine guy will be like. God, hopefully he's not just like Finn; Kurt isn't sure he could handle two of them running around the house. Or even worse someone like Puckerman.

Hopefully they will all be able to get along.

* * *

><p>They allow Blaine time to dress himself in private. Jen gives him some clothes that she found from the donations box at the shelter. It's a simple outfit: a pair of soft heather grey sweatpants, - which he is thankful for since his ribs are killing him as he tries to get used to moving around again, so a pair of jeans would have been a torturous struggle getting into - and a faded green t-shirt that had the word 'Volunteer' printed across it in faded blue letters. The pants are a size too big, and he has to roll the bottoms up a couple of times so that he isn't stepping all over the excess material. The shirt is also baggy, and he realized on closer inspection that it has a couple of small holes at the bottom. Clearly, these articles of clothing were nothing more than some really old hand-me downs that someone probably found in the back of their closet and decided to donate to the homeless instead of just throwing out.<p>

Blaine closes his eyes for a moment, because that's what he is now. Homeless.

At least the underwear, socks, and sneakers Jen brought him are brand new. Thank god for little blessings.

He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, trying to flatten his hair. God, he really wishes he had some gel to calm it down. Having it all wild and free is making him feel even more uncomfortable about himself.

He still isn't sure exactly where they are going, having just been told that he's being discharged this afternoon and that he will be leaving with Jen. Blaine's not even sure where the nearest shelter is. What would it be like there?

"Blaine?"

He startles at the voice coming from right outside the bathroom door. Trying to flatten his hair in the mirror one more time, Blaine takes a deep breath before opening the door and walking into the door where Jen and his nurse of the day are waiting for him. He sits gingerly on the edge of the bed and watches as they shuffle through some paperwork. The nurse goes over some post-discharge instructions, giving him an ointment to apply to his burns and a bottle of medication to keep the pain at bay, showing him how to best wrap his ribs, and reminding him to return back in a week or two to get his stitches removed. Blaine tries to listen as best he can, but it really just feels like medical information overload. Not to mention the fact that since the moment he found out he was being discharged, he has been getting increasingly more anxious to leave this place behind him. Even if he's not exactly sure where he's going next, he just wants to be out the hospital and away from this room where everything in his life seems to have turned upside down. Luckily, he's dealt with his own injuries plenty of times before, so he's pretty confident he can handle this all by himself.

They make him sit in a wheelchair with a nurse pushing him to Jen's car instead of letting him walk out on his own. Maybe he should have protested and tried to keep some of his dignity in tact before walking – no rolling – out of here, but he can't find it himself to even really care at this point. He's just tired, and if they want to push him out to the car then so be it.

Jen hasn't even pulled completely out of the hospital parking lot in her little red Malibu before she's pulling out her phone to 'make just a quick call.' Blaine doesn't really mind; in fact, he hopes it lasts almost the entire car ride because he's not sure if he can deal with Jen trying to make small talk right now. Maybe he could just fake sleep so that when she does hang up she leaves him alone. He can find out everything about the shelter when he gets there.

Letting his head fall back, Blaine tries to think relaxing thoughts. He really is exhausted; he didn't have anymore of a restful night then he did the nights before. God, he really wants these nightmares to let up a little, but it's like every time he closes his eyes all he can see is his father's face.

Jen's voice is filling the car as whoever she was calling finally picks up on the other end and he lets it wash over him, only half listening to the words.

"Yes, we are in the car now and heading your way so we should be there in about fifteen minutes. No, he doesn't. I was planning on talking to him about it on the way over."

Blaine straightens up, pulling himself back into full alertness because Jen had to be talking about him.

Stupid fear bubbles in his chest, and won't let go. What if that is his father on the other end? What if he wants to meet with Blaine?

Blaine also really hates the small part of himself that wants to feel...what? Relieved? Happy? No, its more just a little of a hopeful feeling that his father might want him back; that he isn't such the big disappointment that chased away both of his parents. Blaine knows deep down that it's kind of pathetic, but that's just what he is.

"Okay perfect, see you soon. Bye." Jen hangs up with a tiny click on the button, and places the phone down in the cup holder. He really wants to ask her what is going on, what does he need to know, but the words won't seem to come out. Instead, he just sits staring at her as she puts on her turning signal and switches into the turning lane. She must feel his eyes on her because she glances over to give him a reassuring smile.

"So Blaine, I wanted to tell you before, but we had decided it was best to wait until we made sure everything was all settled to tell you that there's been a slight change in plans."

Oh god, it really was his father then. He changed his mind, and he wants Blaine back because he's still really, really pissed at him.

"I'm not going to be taking you to a shelter, unless you decide later that you me to, but we actually have an option for a foster home for you."

Foster home? Meaning someone would take him in? Who would want to do that?

"You remember Carole, your nurse? She and her family have offered to have you stay with them."

He can't really work his mind around it because sure Carole was nice to him, and it seemed like she may have actually cared about what happened to him, but it didn't mean that he expected her to want to open up her home to him.

"But it's your choice, Blaine. If you don't want to go, we don't even have to. I think it would be nice to at least stop by and see what they are like, and if you would feel comfortable living there, but whatever you decide I'll do."

He isn't sure what is the right thing to do. Should he just insist on going to the shelter, and waiting to see if someone else would offer him a place to stay?

But it certainly wouldn't hurt to at least go have a look, right?

"Would you like to go meet with them?" Jen questions after he doesn't say anything, and he pauses for a moment, still debating, but finally nods his consent.

Which is how ten minutes later they pull up in front a two-story light grey house, with charcoal gray shutters and a matching roof. It's a nice house, even though it looks a little on the older side, but it seems well kept.

For some reason he feels nervous as he gets out of the car and walks up the walkway to the steps, slowly because he's still trying to get his body used to moving. He pauses on the porch letting Jen pass him and reach the front door first as he runs his hands over his hair for the tenth time. The door opens before Jen even has a chance to ring the bell revealing Carole, smiling a little sheepishly as she explains, "We heard you pull up."

She steps back to let them in, placing a hand lightly on Blaine's arm and giving him a warm smile. "We're really glad you came, Blaine."

He nods tightly, and offers her a tiny tentative smile of his own. He doesn't want her to think that he's not grateful, but he's still not exactly sure if he wants to stay here. Part of him feels like Carole knows too much about everything, was too much apart of these past few days that he really just wants to forget.

On the other hand, as he watches her caring face as she welcomes them to come sit in the living room, there is a part of him that wants to stay with her. There was always something he found comforting in Carole's presence, and he had liked her from the moment they met.

It is all just so complicated.

There's a man standing in the living room, dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and a baseball cap. He looks tough in a way Blaine is unsure about, and it has him freezing at the edge of the living room as the women pass by him to start introductions. He doesn't exactly look like his father, who dressed in business suits and screamed professionalism in a way that immediately called for respect, but there is something about the man standing before Blaine that makes him think that he requires his own respect.

"Blaine," Carole calls over to him. "I want you to meet my husband, Burt."

He's holding out a hand to Blaine as he steps forward, and Blaine allows himself to take a large gulp of air before he accepts, shaking firmly as his father had taught him what feels like a million years ago.

"Burt Hummel."

"Blaine Anderson, sir." It slips out easily enough, in a voice that almost sounds sure, so Blaine is pretty proud of himself.

Burt is watching him closely as he lets go of his hand, and Blaine's ingrained manners suddenly kick in.

"You have a lovely home. Um, thank you for inviting me here."

Burt looks like he might add something to that, but Jen interrupts, ready to get down to business.

"So I was thinking that we could start by have you two tell us a little bit about yourselves.

"Let Blaine know what he might be getting himself into?" Burt asks with a small chuckle. "Sounds fair enough lets take a seat."

Blaine somehow gets sandwiched on the couch between the two women while Burt grabs a seat in the armchair.

"Well, you already know some about Carole, so I guess you want to hear a little about me," Burt starts looking between Blaine and Jen.

Jen nods, "She's told me some things about you, too. You own a car garage?"

"Yeah, keeps me busy, and keeps the bills paid."

Blaine is content to let them keep the conversation flowing as he glances around the room, noting the small pile of boxes resting in the corner; they have words like 'books,' 'pictures,' and 'living room' scrawled across the side in permanent marker.

"Well, as you can see from the mess of the place and the still unpacked boxes we're still working on moving in completely," Carole answers Blaine's unasked question with an easily smile.

"Partly to blame with the fact that the boys don't want to spend hours going through boxes during Christmas break."

He flips his gaze quickly back to Carole, vaguely remembering her previously mentioning that she had a son, but having completely forgotten about it until this moment.

"I think I told you about Finn, my son once, and then there's Kurt, Burt's son. They're both juniors this year, so you are all pretty close in age, and they're really excited to have you stay with us, Blaine. If you want to of course."

"The boys are both okay with this?" Jen questions. "I know they are going through an adjustment already with the new house, and with the fact that you two are married now."

"When did you guys get married?" The question slips from Blaine's lips before Carole begins to answer Jen's question, but they all seem thrilled that he is participating in the conversation as they turn to look on him. He flushes in embarrassment, and wraps his arms uncomfortably around himself.

"Almost two months ago, we got married in November."

Carole answers him with wide smile, and such happiness that it rips Blaine's hopes in two; he knows he can't stay here now.

Something must show on Blaine's face because Carole keeps talking, trying to figure out what she said that made him so uncomfortable. "But we were together for a year before we got married, and well we just knew it was right from the start."

Burt gives her a loving look, as Blaine bites his lip and looks at the floor. "I can't stay here."

And god, they actually look hurt by that. He doesn't want to disappoint them so he tries to explain, "You just got married, and you both have kids. You should have time to be a happy family, I'm just going to be in the way."

His father words echo in his head. _Do you really think any of those people really care about you, do you think any one of them is going to want to take care of you. No one wants you Blaine, you'd just be another burden._

"I really appreciate your offer, but I don't want to be a burden. I'll be fine at shelter, really. I can't ask you to do this."

He can feel their eyes on him, and he really wants to give into the desire to run out to the car and wait for Jen to take him away from here. He can't understand why he feels a little disappointed himself.

Carole places a hand on his knee, giving it a light squeeze. "Blaine, you're not asking us to do anything. We're asking you, and we wouldn't do that unless we were positive that we wanted you here."

"How about we wait until the end of the visit to decide what you want to do, Blaine?"

He nods at Jen's words; the least he could do is let them finish showing him around.


	7. After the Storm, Part B

** After the Storm, Part B**

* * *

><p>Blaine stays pretty quiet as the conversation moves forward. He listens and studies his surroundings, looking up every now and then when he feels someone's gaze settle upon him. It's usually Burt who he finds watching him, who offers him an easy smile before turning back to the conversation at hand, only to fall back into observing Blaine a few moments later. Blaine's not exactly sure what the man is looking for as he studies him, but he doesn't really pay too much attention to it. The guy is offering to let some kid he never even met before stay in his home, he's allowed to watch and maybe try to figure out what Blaine is about.<p>

Jen clears her throat loudly, after a little lull in the conversation. They've already covered a bunch of topics: Blaine's discharge from the hospital, the struggles with finding a new house, and a discussion over wedding cakes.

"Well on another note of important information, I think I finally found some strong evidence we can use against Mr. Anderson to press charges." Burt and Carole look like they want to reply, say something about how that's great news, or the sooner the better, but Blaine speaks up first.

"I don't want to."

Every head turns to look at him, staring in disbelief.

"Blaine what your father was doing to you, there's no excuse for it," Jen says.

He just continues to shake his vehemently. Were they crazy? Do they know what he would do to Blaine if he actually spoke out about this and went as far as pressing charges against his father?

"I don't want to press charges."

Jen is looking at him like he's certifiably insane. "This isn't just about you, Blaine. I have an obligation to report this, if your father physically harmed you in any way-"

"He didn't do anything," Blaine interjects, and he can tell they can all see through his so obviously transparent lie. "He never laid a hand on me."

Jen lets out a long sigh. "Blaine now isn't the time to put this off. The longer we wait on this the harder it will be to make a good case," she starts again, and he knows she's not letting this go without a fight.

But he just can't.

He can't deal with this. Not now. He just wants to forget about all of it - or at least try to, even with the pain and the fear coursing through him serving as constant reminder that won't let it go away.

"Please," he begs, looking in turn to the three adults surrounding him. "Please, I don't want to press charges." Because he can't. Because somehow that man is still his father, even if he no longer wants to acknowledge it, and he for some reason he just isn't able to do something like that to him.

Burt is watching him with a look that Blaine can't place, but he's the one who after a pause says, "Okay."

Jen starts to protest, but the man just shakes his head. "No charges. Blaine says he has no reason to press any, so we won't do it. These are Blaine's choices now."

Heavy silences falls upon the room as each person takes a moment to breath. The afternoon so far has been pretty overwhelming for everyone. Burt glances over at the clock.

"Well the boys should be home any minute now. We could show you around the house a bit while we wait."

* * *

><p>They're just walking into the kitchen when the sound of the front door opening has them all pausing to listen.<p>

"That must be one of the boys now," Carole says. "I'll be right back."

She disappears down the hall to the front door, as the rest of them stay rooted in the kitchen. Blaine can make out soft murmurs of conversation, and the sound of footsteps falling closer before Carole reappears in the doorway.

"Blaine, this is my son Finn."

Finn is…well much taller than Blaine was anticipating; he's practically a giant. He's dressed in a letterman jacket, instantly reminding Blaine of the jocks who like to bully him at school. Just the sight of it is making Blaine's skin crawl with the desire to flee the scene as Finn takes a step towards him.

"Hey dude," Finn raises a hand and suddenly its coming towards Blaine, so he takes a large step back as he braces himself to be shoved roughly, almost able to the hear the clinking of metal that would sound off as his body is harshly slammed into the lockers at school. It's only after a minute passes and he still hasn't been pushed or hit that he opens his eyes and remembers that he is standing in Carole's kitchen and not in the school hallway. He glances back up to Finn, who is just staring at him dumbstruck with his hand still in the middle of the air.

"Um, sorry?" Finn mumbles questioningly as he scratches at the back of his head and looks towards his mother.

Blaine feels his face heat up as he realizes that Finn was probably just going to clap him on the shoulder, or even just offer him his hand to shake. Yeah, real scary Blaine.

It's just the sight of that letterman jacket that has him on edge. How many times had he seen those entering his line of vision right before he was shoved against the lockers or tripped in the middle of the hall?

He wants to apologize, but Carole saves the air from turning awkward before he has the chance.

"We were just starting to give Blaine a tour of the house, Finn."

Finn nods, seeming to accept the change in subject. "Awesome, the kitchen is my favorite part. Well, mom and Kurt don't really let me cook anything in here anymore after the last time, but there's always good leftovers in the fridge."

Oh god, Blaine still has to meet Kurt. What if he is just as big as Finn? Will he be another jock? The sudden image of being stuck in a house with two people who could possibly be like his old school bullies has his stomach turning.

But then again Finn seems sort of harmless, as he stand in the kitchen offering Blaine a goofy grin as he admits he has a tendency to burn the food; maybe Blaine is just overreacting to everything.

"Speaking of," Burt says, "Where is your brother. We told you both to be home at 4."

Finn just shrugs. "I'll text him, and see."

Blaine lets himself lean against the countertop for a moment, closing his eyes and reminding himself to breath. This would all be okay; he just needs to relax. When he nearly jumps three feet in the air a moment later at the sound of Finn's phone beeping loudly with a new text, Blaine just rolls his eyes at himself. So much for relaxed.

"Kurt says he's on his way home now, he and Mercedes lost track of time."

Blaine can't help but start to picture Brock Stevenson and his cheerleading girlfriend Amanda Hayworth, who strolled into history class twenty minutes late three weeks ago because they 'lost track of time,' after Blaine saw them making out in the hallway right before the bell rang. He still hears Brock's voice calling out to him as he passed, "what are you looking at faggy, trying to understand how normal people work?"

Stop, he reminds himself. He doesn't know Finn and he hasn't even met Kurt yet, and here he is making assumptions on them based on one stupid jacket. They had to be somewhat nice if they were willing to consider letting Blaine come and barge in on their family. He can't imagine someone would do that just so they could have someone to torment everyday. They were nice people, and he had to stop jumping to conclusions.

"Come on kid," Burt calls out to him as he gestures towards the doorway, "I'll take you to see upstairs."

He follows wordlessly behind Burt as he leads him up the staircase, listening to Burt's commentary on the house. "We really liked this one because it had plenty of room for everybody. All the bedrooms are upstairs."

They reach the landing and make their way down the hall. To the right is a closed door, "Kurt's room, " Burt says pointing to it, as he continues to walk down the hall.

He points to a door on the opposite side of the hall. "Bathroom."

There's another bedroom on the right side, immediately behind Kurt's, but Burt passes it, claiming they will come back to that one in a minute. He shows him Finn's room, which is on the opposite end of the hallway a couple of feet down from the bathroom. His door is open and it's pretty much exactly how Blaine would picture Finn's room. There's some game controllers lying on the ground, a basketball in the corner, and pair of socks hanging out of the dresser. Blaine feels a small smile tug at his lip because even though he doesn't know Finn, he feels like it fits him. And there's just something he likes about seeing a room that actually looks lived in. Unlike the rooms in his house, that had everything in it's rightful place, but were stuffy and dusty all at the same time because no one ever really _lived_ in there.

Burt takes him to the end of the hall where straight ahead lays his and Carole's bedroom, before traveling back up the way they came and finally entering the bedroom that they passed on the first round.

The room is painted a soft, calming, pale blue-grey. It has a large bed in the middle with a simple, but elegant grey and white striped comforter. There is a dresser and a bookcase on the wall opposite the bed. A small desk sits under the window on the wall across from the doorway.

"This would be your room," Burt says from where he's leaning against the doorframe, watching as Blaine travels further into the room.

Blaine's heart picks up speed a little at those words. _This could be his room. _If he chose to stay here, he would sleep in that big comfy bed every night, and he could do his homework at the little desk while the sun pours in through the window. He could have a roof over his head, and a safe place to eat his meals if he chooses to stay with these people. These people who were proving to be kind and friendly, and who seem like maybe they actually want him to stay.

"Listen, Blaine. I know this all has to be pretty overwhelming right now, and you probably feel we are asking you to think about things and decide things that you just aren't ready to decide yet. But listen okay, that's fine. This is all about you, and it is all completely up to you. We'd love to have you here, kid, but if you're just not ready you don't have to stay. Or if you want to try it out for a while, we can do that too. You could stay here for a few nights, and if you decide that for whatever reason you want out, you just tell me and we'll take you wherever you want to go, no hard feelings okay? No one is going to hold what you decide against you."

Blaine stares at Burt, his mouth trying to form some type of sound. He's never had that freedom before, never had the chance to make his own decision without the threat of punishment lingering in the background if he happened to make the one that was actually disapproved of. He can't help the feeling of persistent doubt that it can't be this easy repeating in the back of his mind.

"Thank you, sir."

Burt nods, "I'm going to head down now, but you're welcome to stay up here and check out the room."

He likes Burt; he may still be a little scared of him, because Burt doesn't know him that well yet, and there are things about Blaine that he may not like once he finds out. How long will it take Burt to want to kick him out once he realizes what Blaine is; how long will it take for them to realize how much of a burden he is before they send him packing for the street?

But the small selfish part of Blaine just wants to be somewhere safe, surrounded by these people that seem so nice and good.

That's the part of him that calls out Burt's name before he walks completely out of the room, the part that of that says, so quietly that he's not even sure if Burt can hear him, "I think I would like to stay here, um, with you guys, if you're. If you're sure it's alright," while he wrings his hands and looks anywhere but at Burt's face.

"Like I said kid, we'd be happy to have you."

He watches Burt walk out the doorway, heading back towards the stairs. He really hopes he made the right decision.

Maybe he could make this work. Maybe it will never reach the point where they get sick of him, at least until he graduates. He will just have to try really hard, that's all. If there's one thing Blaine Anderson has gotten good at over the years it's hiding himself, and fitting himself to people's liking.

He lets out a long drawn breathe, because even with the fears racing through his head he also feels like a the tiniest piece of the enormous weight that he has been carrying around on his shoulders for as long as he can remember has been lifted. At least for now he has a roof over his head, and some place safe to rest for a while until he can figure this all out. Looking around the room he decides that he can definitely live in this. It isn't his room of course, he doesn't know if he will ever consider it to be his, but it has a big bed and plenty of space. It can be something. He could make this work.

Knowing that there is more to work out downstairs with Jen, he leaves the room and makes his way slowly down.

He pauses a couple of steps down just for a moment, because suddenly his vision is swimming as he glances down, and his hand is gripping the handrail tightly, until his fingers start to turn white. He remembers the feeling of losing his balance, and falling down to the ground from the top of the staircase, and last night his dreams had been plagued with the feeling of falling, to the point where he jumped awake at one point thinking he was suddenly dropping down from some unimaginable height. Steady breaths he reminds himself.

He takes a small tentative step, and reminds himself not to look down. He's never been particularly scared of heights, but he figures he's allowed a little time to get over this. So he takes another small step down, and takes a deep breath in between the next. It's necessary anyway because of the injuries, as his ribs are protesting with every movement.

As he carefully makes his way down, pieces of conversation are drifting up towards him.

"You're late." It's Burt, and it doesn't sound harsh or even the slightest bit angry, it's just a simple statement.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. We just lost track of time, mostly to blame for the fact that I had to spend over an hour convincing Mercedes not to buy this god awful jacket, but anyway," a new voice that Blaine doesn't recognize answers back.

"Well, come on I'll take you upstairs to meet Blaine then."

Blaine finds his legs stopping on the second to last step, as he comes face to face with who must Kurt Hummel.

If Blaine had any expectations for Kurt, they certainty didn't seem to fit the boy standing in front of him.

Kurt is most definitely not wearing a letterman jacket. No, he's in tight black pants, a white button up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a black vest fitted over it. There's a light gray scarf that is delicately draped around his neck. It doesn't take Blaine more than a second to realize that he is kind of gorgeous.

Even less then half a second for Blaine to remember that he is anything but attractive at the moment, with his baggy sweats, ratty t-shirt, and a colorful bruise splayed across his jaw. God, he doesn't even have gel in his hair.

He really wishes that he had some gel in his hair.

"Oh hello," The boy below him stares up at him in surprise, obviously not expecting to run into someone just standing on his staircase, before holding out his hand. "You must be Blaine. Kurt Hummel."

For a moment he forgets how to speak, how to breathe. It takes him a painstakingly long moment to realize he's just staring awkwardly at Kurt when the boy's bright smile falters on his face, his hand still outstretched in the air but looking like it might start to fall downward, back out of Blaine's reach. Blaine thrusts his own hand out quickly before that can happen, and is able to stutter out "B-Blaine"

Kurt's hand is soft and warm and real in his own, grounding him to the moment. His eyes are a bright, dazzling shade of blue staring into Blaine's own; he wouldn't be able to look away if he wanted to.

He feels that familiar flutter dancing around in his stomach, but for the first time in a long while it's not due to a cold fear shooting throughout his body. It's only from this beautiful boy standing before him. But as quickly as it comes it leaves again because he is going to be living with this boy everyday, while he is supposed to be trying his hardest to make this situation work.

Blaine is so screwed.

* * *

><p><strong>So yes shorter chapter, but I had to break it up so that yesterday's wasn't super long. <strong>

**Next chapter, we will get some of Kurt's thoughts on meeting the new boy who will be staying in his home :D **


	8. Thistle and Weeds

**Chapter 8: Thistle and Weeds**

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Glee or any of the characters used in this story. **

**Author's Note: Major thank you to everyone who is reviewing and subscribing to this story! I love you all, and I really love hearing all of your thoughts so thank you again!**

* * *

><p>It's not until he and Mercedes are chatting in the small coffee shop in the mall that Kurt just happens to glance up at the clock above the counter and realizes with a jolt that he should have left for home a long, long time ago. He rises to his feet in a rush, dropping a quick kiss on Mercedes' cheek while muttering a hurried excuse about needing to be home early for family stuff. She lets him go with a small wave as he walks out the door, laughing as he turns back around and threatens the life of three pairs of her favorite shoes if he finds out she went back into the mall for that god-awful jacket.<p>

There's traffic, of course; Kurt never hits traffic unless he has somewhere important to be, and, well, being home at the time your father tells you in order to meet your potential new (family member? adopted brother?) house member is pretty important. Especially when your father told you to be home twenty-five minutes ago.

But his father will understand (because really? That jacket Mercedes almost bought was atrocious, and he was just doing everyone a favor by telling her so), and he really isn't _that_ late.

He's sitting stopped in a long line of cars at a red light when his phone buzzes from it's resting place in his cup holder - most likely his father or someone looking for him. The phone buzzes again before he has a chance to even pick it up with Finn's name popping up on the screen, alerting him to two new messages from his stepbrother.

**4:28 From Finn:** Burt says ur grounded for a week, and I get to pick what we eat for dinner every night since I came home on time.

**4:29 From Finn:** Nah, just kidding dude but are u on ur way?

**4:29 To Finn:** Funny. Yes. We lost track of time because Mercedes is stubborn and doesn't understand the concepts of good fashion.

**4:30 From Finn:** Right.

He sets his phone down on his lap when the light turns green so he can inch his car up along with the people in front of him, praying that he will be able to make it through the intersection before the light changes red again.

No such luck.

He turns the radio up, Celine Dion's "Alone" blaring through the speakers as he starts to sing along. He's in a Celine type of mood today. Kurt pauses to chew his bottom lip in debate for a moment, picking his phone back up to flip through his conversation with Finn. He's curious, to say the least, about Blaine. His mind had kept wandering back to the subject throughout the day, wondering what the boy would be like. His father and Carole hadn't told them much about Blaine, or even how this meeting was supposed to go – just that Blaine had been having troubles at home, and he would meet with their family today to decide if he wanted to stay with them. Finn hadn't mentioned Blaine, but he was obviously home already so he most likely met him already. No harm in just asking Finn how it went.

**4: 33: To Finn:** Have you met Blaine yet?

**4:33 From Finn:** Yea

Kurt rolls his eyes in annoyance at Finn's elaborative response. Seriously, sometimes talking to his stepbrother felt like pulling teeth.

**4:34 To Finn:** And?

**4: 34 From Finn:** It was weird

**4:35 To Finn:** Care to elaborate on that insightful point?

Conversations with Finn? Impossible. Kurt sometimes wonders how Rachel and Quinn put up with him for so long. His phone beeps with Finn's reply just as the light turns once again, but this time Kurt makes it through the intersection so reading it will have to wait until he gets home.

* * *

><p>He finally pulls into the driveway 10 minutes later. Pulling down the visor, he lets himself take a moment to check his reflection in the mirror. Kurt's not exactly sure why, but he does feel kind of nervous about this meeting. He knows how important this is to Carole, and that everything is depending on how the meeting goes – on if Blaine likes them and if they make a good impression on both him and the lady, Jen. Looking presentable is one step towards that goal, so he pulls out the mini can of hairspray he has hiding in his glove compartment and fixes his hair, making sure to crack the door first so he doesn't drown in the spray.<p>

He knows that in actuality the fact that his hair is perfectly coiffed, or that his scarf is placed just so isn't going to be a major factor in whether or not Blaine decides he likes them enough to let Kurt's family help him, but it will at least make Kurt feel better if he is looking his best. The first impression you give someone can affect their entire view of you, and Kurt is a firm believer that style choices can play a big role in how that goes. Satisfied with his appearance, Kurt turns his attention back to his phone and his waiting messages.

**4:36: From Finn:** Right, sry. It was just weird, dude. I dunno. He's quiet and he kept looking at me funny like I was going to I dunno do something to him

**4:37: From Finn:** and he freaked out when I went to clap him on the shoulder I was just trying to be friendly bro! Its been kind of awkward

Well, Kurt would be lying if he didn't admit that he had been expecting there to be a certain level of awkward in the situation. He might as well just go in and get this over with.

He breezes in through the front door, stopping a moment to hang his cream colored pea coat on the hook – but leaving on his scarf since it does go perfectly with his outfit – before turning to follow the sound of voices drifting in from the kitchen. He finds Carole, Finn, and the woman who must be Jen sitting around the table just outside the kitchen. Jen seems nice enough, professional but nice; she shakes his hand with a firm grip, but a warmer smile.

"Your father's upstairs with Blaine," Carole tells him with a grin, and Kurt thinks that things must be going well, at least with Jen, because Carole seems happy. "Giving him a little tour of the place."

"Is that Kurt?"

"Oh never mind, here he is now," Carole adds with laugh when his father's voice rings out.

"Your late," Burt says as he motions Kurt to follow him out of the kitchen and towards the stairway down the hall.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. We just lost track of time, mostly to blame for the fact that I had to spend over an hour convincing Mercedes not to buy this god awful jacket, but anyway," he a hand in dismissal, and his father just nods his head.

"Well, come on I'll take you upstairs to meet Blaine then."

And Kurt turns about to lead the way up the steps, but stops abruptly when he realizes that there is a body standing in his way.

"Oh hello," it comes out quickly – breathy and light in his surprise - before he even gets a good look at Blaine. He breathes in deeply for a moment, trying to get over his momentary shock before he lifts a hand out for the other boy to shake. "You must be Blaine. Kurt Hummel."

But Blaine doesn't reach out to shake his hand; he doesn't even say a word. He's just standing there, staring at Kurt, quiet and still. And now Kurt really understands what Finn meant by awkward. Maybe Blaine doesn't want to shake his hand. He's about to lower it back to his side when suddenly there is another hand gripping his own; a strong hand that contrasts with the quiet, timid voice that mutters out, "Blaine." It makes Kurt finally stop thinking long enough to take a really good look at him.

He is handsome to say the least, even with the tiny row of stitches on his forehead, and the colorful bruises mottling the skin along his jaw. He looks kind of pale at the moment, but it's the fact that he looks so colorless, like a ghost of normal person that gives Kurt the feeling that his skin isn't naturally so pale - not like Kurt's own. His complexion seems like it may be more olive-ly when he loses this slightly gray-ashen tone that is currently covering his body. What exactly had happened to him? Was he sick? He could have been, which would have given him a reason to be admitted to the hospital. Kurt knows for a fact that he had been there since he was one of Carole's patient. It's the bruising that gets Kurt, not as easily explained by Blaine having a bad case of pneumonia or something to that effect. How did he get so hurt? Kurt doesn't mean to stare, but it's hard to tear his gaze away from those awful bruises. What does he look like without the bruising? Probably gorgeous.

But as much as he could admire Blaine's face, it's his eyes that eventually draw him in and hold his attention. They are a beautiful shade of golden brown, almost honey like, and Blaine's gaze is just so soft as he stares into Kurt's eyes.

It seems like they have been shaking hands forever, and yet it also seems like it isn't possibly long enough. Kurt pulls his hand away after another moment, hoping that the other boy doesn't notice the slight heat he feels rising to his cheeks.

"It's nice to meet you."

Blaine just nods, looking slightly abashed and staring down at his shoes like they are the most fascinating things in the room.

Kurt clears his throat awkwardly, wondering if he had just succeeded in making Blaine feel uncomfortable in under five seconds. "Well okay then, um I guess there's no reason for me to go upstairs so we can just head back into the kitchen."

Blaine nods again, never even lifting his head up fully, so Kurt turns around and follows Burt into the next room where Carole, Finn and Jen are still waiting.

Burt takes a seat at the table next to Carole, while Kurt and Blaine wind up standing around it awkwardly. Kurt finds it hard not to continue his appraisal of Blaine, staring at him with long - hopefully discreet - side-glances before turning his focus back to the story Carole was in the middle of telling when they reentered the room.

The clothes catch his eye next. Blaine's clothes are pretty much a disgrace. They don't seem to fit him properly, leaving him looking slightly disheveled, and they don't really hold any value of style at all. The shirt even has a couple stains and small holes littering it. They look like a bunch of hand-me downs. Kurt refuses to believe that there is anyway that someone actually chooses to dress like that, because this outfit is honestly just an insult to his eyes. He'll cross it off as horrible mistake until Blaine actually confesses to liking these things.

Kurt's gaze then decides to travel the path back up to his face, lingering on the bruise facing him again before he makes it pass further up. Sitting atop of Blaine's head, are the softest looking curls Kurt has ever seen, some cascading a little down his forehead messily, giving Blaine a gentle, boyish look. Kurt will never admit to the fact that his fingers suddenly twitch with the desire to touch them.

Kurt may be openly staring at this point, but the truth is that Blaine is sort of mysterious, and Kurt is just curious about finding out more about him, honey eyes and plush mouth be damned. He's allowed to be interested in the guy that may possibly be staying with them for an indefinite amount of time without having to feel guilty about it.

Of course, the only person who is in fact trying to make him feel guilty about it is himself.

Oh get a grip Hummel, otherwise you are going to be royally screwed. He allows himself to roll his eyes at his strange thoughts and focus again on what is actually happening, pointedly ignoring the fact that he still finds his eyes being drawn to the boy standing a few feet away from him.

His father voice gains his full attention when he turns to Blaine and asks, "Well kid, should I tell the good news or would you like to?"

Blaine just fidgets for a moment, shuffling a little on his feet, eyes cast downwards before answering, "Um, that's fine you can go ahead." His voice is timid and unsure, sounding like it's taking him a great deal of effort to even speak in front of them.

Burt nods, turning to Carole and Jen. "Blaine has made his decision, and he's going to be staying here. As long as we passed Jen's inspection of course."

Jen nods, a small smile playing on her lips, "Everything looks good from my end. You're sure this is what you want Blaine?"

He nods, even as he gently wraps an arm around his stomach. Jen and Carole break out into giant matching grins. "Okay then," Jen continues "Let's work through the specifics."

Kurt tries to send Blaine a kind smile when he lifts his head back up to show him that he's pleased with the news, but Blaine just looks away quickly avoiding his gaze. He tries not to feel hurt by it, but he can't help but start to feel like Blaine just doesn't like him. Which may be kind of ridiculous considering that he only met the guy a few minutes ago, but once the thought is in his head he can't just seem to shake it out. Maybe he made the wrong type of first impression.

He notices Finn getting up from the table and heading into the kitchen, so he waits a moment before making a beeline to the counter where Finn is pouring himself a drink. He reaches into the cabinet that his stepbrother hasn't yet made the effort to close and pulls out a glass for himself. Finn glances over to him, giving him a lopsided grin. He elbows Kurt lightly in the side.

"Told you he would look up to us," he says with a goofy grin still planted firmly on his face.

Kurt lifts an eyebrow, not getting Finn's remark at first. He shoots Finn a disbelieving look when it finally dawns on him. "Are you seriously making height jokes right now?

"What? The dude is short."

Kurt just shakes his head, as he glances back towards Blaine. He had noticed when they were standing together that Blaine is in fact shorter than him, but only by a few inches, and it's kind of endearing – in a totally friendly-sweet way, not in a I'm-noticing-how-cute-everything-about-you-is kind of way, because it's not like Kurt thinks Blaine is cute or anything. Because Blaine is going to be staying in his house, and wouldn't that be awkward.

A year ago Kurt would have been dying to have a cute boy in his house. Heck, he was the one plotting to get his crush living in the same house as him, but he learned the hard way how horribly wrong that could turn out, that life wasn't just going to be this perfect little romance story for him where the guy of his dreams is going to suddenly wake up one day and realize that he's in love with Kurt. That's not real life, especially not in little old Lima, Ohio.

And it's not even like he does in fact have a crush on Blaine. He just met the guy. Sure, he's pretty, well, dreamy without even trying, and those honey eyes are so warm and inviting. But he doesn't need to go there, not again. He doesn't need to relive the whole Finn incident, or even the smaller Sam incident.

It's just him noting the attractiveness of some person, nothing wrong with that. As long as it doesn't go beyond that, and it won't - Kurt won't let it.

Besides, watching Blaine as he talks uncomfortably to the adults, keeping his gaze adverted and picking absently at those damn holes in his shirt, he feels like the boy needs anything but Kurt crushing on him. Which he totally isn't.

Kurt doesn't even know how the guy feels about him being gay.

Kurt's head snaps back to stare at the counter. With everything going on, and trying to decide how uncomfortable it would be to invite a stranger into their home, Kurt hadn't even begun to consider that before. Oh god, what if he's a homophobe. Maybe that explains Blaine apparent discomfort with him. Maybe he already picked up on the fact that Kurt is gay, and doesn't want to be near him. He could have another Azimio or Karofsky sitting at his kitchen table and he might not even know it yet.

Although, as he glances at Blaine again, he doesn't really seem like he would be capable of hurting anyone. In fact Blaine – whether it be an affect of the oversized clothes or just because he really is – just seems to be extremely tiny, and not at all like the some of the hulking barbaric neanderthals that push Kurt into lockers everyday.

But just the thought of having to live everyday in the same house as someone who would look at him like he is disgusting, or mutter remarks about him being gay is terrifying. He doesn't know if he could deal with that in his own home. Kurt tries to stop his track of thought before he gets himself worked up. There are a lot of reasons that can explain Blaine's discomfort, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. In reality, he doesn't know anything about Blaine, and he can't start making assumptions. He needs to get to know the other boy better.

"Well, then," Jen starts and Kurt notices her rise from the table. He and Finn make their way back over to the group to show that they are listening. "We still have some paperwork to fill out, but I would have no problem letting Blaine stay here before we finish everything up tomorrow."

Everyone nods their consent to the idea so she continues, "Perfect. Alright, Blaine I have some things to things to help you get situated. A toothbrush, toothpaste, some more clothes I pulled from donations. Although," she pauses as she looks Blaine up and down. Kurt can't help but let his own eyes follow the same path. "I didn't seem to do such a good job with sizes huh?"

Kurt can't agree more, but at least he knows for sure now that this isn't Blaine's usual style, and that thought is comforting all by itself. He can't help but start to imagine what types of clothes Blaine usually wore. Even better yet, what types of clothes Kurt would dress him in if it were up to him. His mind is already wandering through the stores he would shop in for Blaine, picking out the perfect pants and shirts that would flatter his body. And he is not thinking about the slim body that must be hidden under those awful clothes. Oh no, that line of thought is stopping this instant.

When Kurt lifts his head back up, he sees Blaine gaze at him from the corner of his eye. Blaine's eyes meet his for less than an instant, less than even blink, before he is staring back down at his hands, but Kurt doesn't miss the pink tinge that is suddenly coloring his cheeks, standing out starkly against the pale tone of his face. Is he embarrassed? Kurt would probably be to, if he was sitting in some stranger's living room while they openly discussed the fact that he didn't even have his own clothes to wear, and was instead forced to wear other people's old rags. What had happened to Blaine's clothes? There are so many questions Kurt wants answered.

"Why don't you come give me a hand Blaine, and you can sort through the stuff in the car to decide what you like."

Burt walks out with them, leaving Carole and the boys.

"I better go check on that chicken soup." Carole says, referring to the pot Kurt had noticed already cooking on the stove. It smells delicious. "Everything went great, didn't it?"

"Yes," Kurt agrees.

Let's hope it stays that way.

* * *

><p>By the time Jen leaves, it's a little past five-thirty and Blaine already doesn't know what to do with himself.<p>

Carole had excused herself to the kitchen straight away to finish dinner, and Kurt followed closely behind offering to help. Burt and Finn were gathered in the living room watching TV.

Blaine is left hovering close to the table, staring between the two rooms and back down to the ground at the box at his feet. It has all the stuff Jen gave him that she collected from the shelter, even though Burt and Carole insisted that they would take Blaine out to get whatever he needed. But he is grateful for the box because he doesn't want them to have to do that; he doesn't want to make things harder on them by making them spend money on him.

He walks into the kitchen where Carole and Kurt are currently leaning over a giant pot and discussing ingredients. He stands waiting quietly until Carole notices his presence.

"Hey, Blaine, do you need something? Dinner's almost ready."

His stomach gives a little rumble. It actually does smell delicious, and for the first time in days he actually feels a little hungry.

"Um, is it okay if I bring this up to my…the bedroom now?" He gestures to the box. "Unless, there's something I could help with?"

"Of course you can. We'll call you back down when dinner's ready."

Blaine's about to bend over to grab the box, when Carole interrupts, "Wait a second, why don't we get Finn to carry that upstairs for you."

"Oh no," Blaine quickly protests. "It's okay. I can do it." He glances up in time to see Kurt watching him with a puzzled look on his face before quickly turning back to the task of gathering bowls out from a cabinet. He feels his cheeks heat up, and Carole's already calling Finn into the kitchen before he can argue again.

"Its okay Blaine," Carole tries to reassure him. "It would be much worse to cause more injury to your ribs, and it's always a good thing to get Finn off the couch," she adds with a wink just as Finn enters the room.

He nods in defeat, and follows Finn silently up the stairs.

"Thanks," he says when Finn sets the box on the floor.

"No problem man. I'm used to having to carry things around. My girlfriend used to make me carry everything, and reach for anything that was up high. She was even shorter than…" Finn stops abruptly, panic crossing his face for a brief moment. "She was short. But we broke. Not because she was short or anything. She kissed someone else. Um, yeah I'm just going to…" He points his finger in the direction of the door, before making a hasty exit.

Blaine stares blankly at the door, he has no clue what that was all about.

* * *

><p>There's a knock on Blaine's door thirty minutes later, Burt's voice on the other side telling him it's time to eat.<p>

Listening to his growling stomach, Blaine rises deciding that tonight he might try to actually eat something. It was the polite thing to do anyway.

By the time he makes it down to the table, Carole is serving soup into everyone's bowls while Kurt is placing a basket of warm bread on the table.

It smells _so_ good. Blaine's never actually had homemade chicken soup before. The stuff from the can is usually the closest he gets, but just by the aroma of Carole's he can see that suddenly not becoming good enough anymore.

Finn walks in carrying glasses filled with ice. He points one at Blaine. "What do you want to drink?"

Blaine shrugs, "Water is fine."

"I can get it," he offers as Finn starts to turn back around, but there's a strong hand on his shoulder suddenly. Blaine's whole body tenses as he goes completely still, but the hand just squeezes lightly for a moment before falling back off.

"Come sit, Blaine." Burt's voice again. So Blaine follows him closer to the table, but he pauses, because he doesn't actually know where he should be sitting. For all he knows everyone might have a certain seat they like. He shuffles his feet waiting to see where everyone goes. Burt sits at one end of the table, and it makes sense that Carole might sit at the other head of the table. Kurt pulls out a chair next to Burt on the opposite side of the table from where Blaine is hovering. There's an empty seat next to him, and still two empty seats right in front of Blaine. Finn comes in carrying two glasses, one filled with water and the other with soda. He places them down in front of the two empty seats, pulling out one of the chairs for himself and plopping down. Well, it makes the decision easier for Blaine since Finn placed his water at seat in next to him, so that's where Blaine sits.

Carole is sitting now, having already filled everyone's bowls, and she starts passing the breadbasket around. Blaine takes one before offering it to Finn, who takes a handful and places them on his napkin.

Once the basket makes it way around the table and then is placed back in the middle, silence falls around them. Burt and Carole had been making light conversation, but it seems like they have run out of stilted small-talk questions to ask. A heavy awkwardness spreads across the room; only Blaine doesn't really pay too much attention to it at first. He's so used to the dinners with his father, which were filled with uncomfortable silence every night. But when he doesn't even hear the sounds of glasses clinking on the table, or spoons hitting on bowls he glances up to find everyone just sitting, staring at their plates, or their laps. No one has even touched their utensils yet.

Finn is glancing back and forth between his mother and Kurt, like he doesn't understand why he can't start eating. Throwing one last sideways look at Kurt, he brings his hands up to the table and folds them together as he closes his eyes. He looks like he's going to start saying Grace or something. Maybe the Hummels are really religious, but don't want to insult Blaine by assuming he would happily follow along in prayer. He removes his hand from atop his own spoon, since had just been about to pick it up to and start eating. He could just join in; it would be the polite thing to do even if he's not exactly very religious himself. He's about to bring his own hands up to the table to show the Hummels that it's okay and he has no problem going along with their routines, when Kurt voice cuts across the silent room.

"Finn, what? Are you praying?" his voice rises a little with incredulity.

"I thought we were going to?" Finn shrugs, looking slightly confused.

"Why would we do that? We never pray before we eat." Kurt seems to catch himself suddenly, cutting his own sentence off sharply, and Blaine sees him sneak a glance his way, as if to make sure that Blaine wasn't in fact sitting there praying. Luckily, his hands never made it above his lap.

"Well, everyone's just sitting here dude! I wasn't sure what we were waiting for, and I'm really hungry."

At that Burt lets out a small chuckle and Carole just pats Finn softly on the arm. "It's okay honey, you can start eating."

"Thank god," Finn mutters as he starts shoving food into his mouth.

"Geez, Finn would it kill you to chew your food every once in a while, or swallow…or even breath."

"I breath. Like all the time dude." Finn counters back around a mouth full of food.

And as simple as that, dinner starts, conversation starts. The Hummels are all going back and forth and sharing in a real family dinner. Finn and Kurt keep bantering, while Carole and Burt play referee.

Now Blaine's the one really feeling the awkwardness. He doesn't know what to do. He's never had a dinner like this before; it's always been dry and dull with the only exciting (terrifying) thing happening if his father decided dinner wasn't quite to his liking and threw his plate to the floor.

And for some reason it actually hurts to watch, causing a deep ache in his chest that he can't really explain. Blaine can't stop comparing this house to his. His old one, that is. He also can't help feeling like he's intruding; he's ruining the perfect little family these wonderful people created.

Blaine tunes out of the conversation, the sounds of laughter and joking just becoming background noise. He tries to focus on his dinner, but he really just wants to go back up to hide away in his room. Suddenly, the dinner doesn't seem so appetizing anymore. He wants to be out of their way and let them enjoy their time together.

"May I be excused?" He blurts it out before he even can even notice the fact that his lips are moving and that sound is coming out. He's pretty certain that he just cut Kurt off mid sentence, and god that just figures. He must seem like a complete jerk. He's about to apologize but Carole looks at him with a worried glaze. "You've barely even touched your food Blaine. Do you not like chicken soup? I can make you something else."

Blaine shakes his head, hating that he made her feel bad. That wasn't his intention.

"I'm not very hungry," he mutters looking down at his plate. He doesn't want to see if they look mad at him.

Carole is quiet for a moment before answering, "Okay, maybe you can try some food again a little later."

He takes that as an okay to go, so he rises from his chair and exits the room. He resists the urge to run up the stairs as quickly as possible, instead making his way up slowly and quietly. He doesn't want them to think that he is in a rush to get away from the dinner table, even if he sort of is. He closes the door softly, the quiet click sounding too loud in his head, but it makes him feel safer - always has when his father was downstairs ranting and raving, because the closed door meant he was at least able to shut it out, drown out some of the sound and put a barrier between them, even if that barrier could easily be broken if his father so decided.

Blaine paces around the room, feeling caged in. Trapped. Maybe he made the wrong choice. Maybe it would have been easier to stay in the shelter. At least then he wouldn't feel like he is intruding into someone else's life and maybe he wouldn't feel like he should be staying cooped up in this bedroom. Which would eventually start to have him itching and crawling up the walls in desperation to be free.

It's different, somehow, from back home. He used to spend a lot of time in his own room there too, especially once his father got home and he didn't want to be in his way. But this is different. He doesn't have a computer to play with, or music to get lost into. He even longs for piles of homework or a paper to write.

Huh, school. He hadn't even really thought about that yet. Holiday break would be over soon, and school would be starting up again, but he obviously wasn't going to go back to the same school. Where would school be now?

He glances around the room again, eyes settling on the bookcase near his dresser. There are some books crowding the shelves, so he walks over to see if there's anything that sounds interesting. He's delighted to see the wide range of books lining the shelves. There are classics like _Pride and Prejudice_ and _The Scarlet Letter_ (ones that are probably just sitting around from various English classes, never to be looked at again after the test is taken) and then some newer stuff like two from the _Twilight _series and a couple of Nicholas Sparks books. There are some he's never even heard of before. His eyes fall on a familiar title: _Oliver Twist_, a long time favorite of his. And doesn't it seem oddly fitting now. He pulls it off the shelf, flipping through the pages. He doesn't think anyone would care if he read them, and it would certainly give him something to do. And it would be comforting.

He settles himself at the small desk and opens to the first page, letting the familiar words embrace him and bring him somewhere far away from the mess of his life. At least, Oliver would understand what he was going through.

He loses track of times as he engulfs himself into the world of dreary England and the Artful Dodger. It's quiet in his room, a soundtrack Blaine is often used to, so nothing pulls him back to reality to notice how late it is getting. Until the scraping sound that startles him. He hears it again, quickly noting that it sounds like a chair being moved. And that's coming from Kurt's room.

Blaine blows out a soft breath, setting his book down to scrub a hand down his face. All of a sudden, he feels completely exhausted, eyes heavy and body feeling sluggish. His gaze slowly drifts over to the wall that is connected to Kurt's room. There's another sound, different from before, striving to travel through the wall and reach Blaine's ears. It's sounds like a voice. Maybe Kurt is on the phone, talking to that Mercedes girl he was hanging out with earlier. Blaine tries not to picture him lounging in some chair, the phone cradled against his ear with a soft smile playing on his lips. Blaine does not want to be that creepy.

He strains his ears to listen closely; it doesn't sound like speaking. No, no it sounds more like it has a melody. Music. Kurt must have the radio on or something. What type of music would he listen to? His curiosity allows his feet to guide him to the wall, leaning in to get a better listen. It's a voice, a single voice strong and sure that drifts through the wall and to his ear. There's no background music or sounds of some type of bass. It's just a voice. It doesn't sound like a radio or an iPod, and it goes soft for a moment before getting a bit louder on the next notes. A breath gets stuck in Blaine's lung, in a moment that feels like complete awe. Kurt is singing. Kurt is in the next room singing with a voice that sounds like an angel.

Blaine wants to get as close as possible so that he can hear Kurt better, so he sits down on the floor between the dresser and the bookcase, pulling his knees to his chest and letting his head rest against the wall. He can make out some of the words now, recognizing the song after a moment.

_I just wanna start again_

_And maybe you could show me how to try_

_Maybe you could take me in_

_Somewhere underneath your skin_

Celine Dion. Blaine feels a small smile try to tug at his lips. Kurt sounds just as good. His voice swells as he goes through the chorus, picking up volume and soaring right through the wall.

_What do you say to taking chances?_

_What do you say to jumpin' off the edge?_

_Never knowin' if there's solid ground below_

_Or a hand to hold or hell to pay_

_What do you say? What do you say?_

_Hey now, hey, my heart is beatin' down_

_But I'm always comin' back for more, yeah_

_There's nothin' like love to pull you up_

_When you're lyin' down on the floor, babe_

_So talk to me, talk to me like lovers do_

_Yeah, walk with me, walk with me like lovers do_

_Like lovers do_

Kurt's voice washes over him, rushing through him like a warmth he feels straight down to his toes. But as happy and free as Kurt's voice sounds, it also seems to serve as a reminder to Blaine of how lost and trapped he feels.

_Don't know much about your life_

_And I don't know much about your world_

He closes he eyes as he hears Kurt softly sing the closing lines of the song. Kurt is in the next room singing about letting go of the things that hold you and connecting with someone, while Blaine sits all alone on the floor, feeling more insecure and lost than he ever has felt in his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Featured in this Chapter: <strong>_**Taking Chances**_** by Celine Dion.**

**I wanted to give a huge shout-out and thank you to DiDiGlee, who not only picked out the perfect song for Kurt to sing, but always listens to me rant on about my ideas and encourages me whenever I feel stuck. I couldn't do this without you! :D And if there anybody who is not reading her stories, especially her epic **_**No Regrets**_** or **_**Man in Mirror**_**, you are seriously missing out! Go get reading! **

**Thanks again for reading, and please review and let me know your thoughts about the chapter :D**


	9. Night Terror

**Chapter Nine: Night Terrors**

**Author's Note: I am so terribly sorry about the long wait! I feel absolutely horrible about it, but I've been having a very rough summer due to some family stuff I am dealing with, and it threw off my writing. This update is shorter than usual, but instead of making you guys wait until I have my long chapter done, I'm going to post this one in parts as I finish it. I think it might be easier for me too, this way it takes me less time between updates. I'm already halfway done with the next part so expect it to be up by Wednesday. And thank you all so much for all of your support, you don't know how much I appreciate it and how much it inspires me to continue.**

**So just for recapping purposes since it has been so long: last time we saw Blaine he was being welcomed into the Hudmel family home, but he was still left feeling somewhat like an unwanted outsider so he spent the night reading in his room, that is until he heard Kurt singing in the room next door, after which he took a seat on the floor to get a better listen.**

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><p>Kurt's having lunch with Patti LuPone, and Diana Ross in some quaint little coffee shop in the heart of New York City. There's the rush of people flowing in and out the doors, the sound of cabs honking outside, and his coffee has never tasted better than it does right now.<p>

They're fighting over him - Patti and Diana that is - both wanting him to perform at their next big event that coincidentally happen to be on the same night. He sits back and listens as they bicker about who needs his talent more, a big smile gracing his lips as he snatches off another piece of his muffin, which is unsurprisingly delicious and oh hey look – fat free! Things just keep getting better and better for Kurt Hummel.

It's glorious. Mostly because he can't be booked for either party since he has already promised Barbra that he would star in her new Broadway play that opens next week. He's about to tell them just that, because honestly its rude to let them go on fighting when there is absolutely no hope for either of them to win, but when he opens his mouth to speak all that comes out is a scream. A loud, terrified sounding scream – like one straight from a horror movie.

It jolts Kurt awake; his eyes pop open, but they're not focused enough to really see anything in his darkened bedroom. He rolls over onto his back, blinking quickly and trying to adjust his slightly rapid breathing back to a normal speed.

What a weird dream – it had been fantastic until the screaming part. He doesn't even have a moment to really reflect on it before he hears another muffled scream fill the air, sounding so close. Too close. This time he sits up fully, realizing with a shock that the noise hadn't just been part of some strange not-really-nightmare, and god where is that coming from. And why.

Kurt rises to his feet quickly, adrenaline thrumming through his body in quick bursts as he cracks open his bedroom door to poke his head out, listening for any sign of movement in the house. There's a creak sound coming from somewhere down the hallway, and Kurt can see shadows dancing in the dim light produced by nightlight plugged into the wall (it's one of those febreze plug-ins that smells absolutely amazing - Kurt insisted on putting it up not only to allow the whole upstairs to smell fresh, but to keep Finn from banging into walls on his way down to the kitchen for a midnight snack, which, sadly, has happened before.) He swallows thickly as he tries to make out what is stumbling about down the hallway, but a voice rings out before he has a chance to do anything.

"Who's there?"

Kurt lets out the breath he had been holding, relaxing slightly when he recognizes the voice. Finn. God, if all of this is just because of some horror movie Finn left blasting in his room while he went down for food Kurt may personally kill him.

"It's just me, Finn." He lets his feet bring his full body out of the doorway and closer to his stepbrother.

Finn's posture slumps from vaguely threatening to only slightly on guard. "Were you screaming? I thought I heard screaming."

Okay, so it is not Finn's fault they are both standing in the hallway in the middle of the night.

"No, it wasn't me, I heard it too and came out to investigate – why do you….isn't that from your Xbox?" He looks down noticing that Finn has one of his Xbox controllers in one hand and a pillow in the other.

"I thought that a murder might be out here."

Kurt can't keep the slight exasperation out of his voice as he answers, "What were you going to do Finn, try to distract the murder with a videogame and a pillow fight?"

Finn shrugs, but still grips tightly to his belongings. "I panicked. And they were already in my hands when I woke up."

"You sleep with your Xbox—"

There is another scream, the loudest yet, and it's filled with terror. It sounds even closer than before, like it was coming from the guest room. Blaine's room his mind supplies quickly. It's silent again, and Kurt realizes he's playing into Finn's beliefs as he waits to listen for signs of struggle, or anything that would mean an intruder is actually in their house with Blaine. But there's nothing, and he slowly realizes that Blaine is probably just having a nightmare of some sort.

"What do we do? Do we go in there?" Finn asks turning from staring anxiously at Blaine's door to Kurt with wide eyes.

And what exactly should they do? He's debating with the idea of telling Finn that they should both just go back to sleep, because really what else is he supposed to do? Blaine will eventually either wake up or move onto some other dream, hopefully a happier one at some point, and he's not exactly sure how comfortable Blaine would be if they just waltzed into his room to wake him up. Then again, they could simply just wake Blaine up, and check to make sure he was all right. Maybe he could just knock on the door until Blaine wakes himself up.

Kurt walks to the door, hand poised to knock.

"You're going to knock? Dude, what if the murder is already in there with him. You're just alerting him to the fact that he should aim his gun at the door."

"Finn there's no…" He stops when he hears what sounds too close to a sob for his liking, and some sort of unintelligible words. He pushes the door open, but his hearts stops in his chest and then beats in overtime when he realizes that Blaine is not asleep in his bed. It doesn't even look like his bed has been slept in at all. The covers are still pulled all the way up, and the pillows are placed exactly the way Kurt arranged them when they set the room up. Oh god, don't let Finn be right that someone actually does have Blaine.

"Don't open the closet. Murders like to hide in there." Finns starts shoving the pillow at him, "take this."

"What am I supposed to do with a pillow, Finn?" His harsh whisper still sounds too loud in the room, as he stands stock still looking around for signs of Blaine.

"Protect yourself!"

Another small sob-like sound fills the charged air causing both boys to jump, but Kurt catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He can make out the shape of legs and feet on the floor between the dresser and the books case. He steps forward, and sure enough there is Blaine slouched down on the floor asleep.

It's the sight of Blaine that has him stopping in his tracks, no longer sure what to do.

He's still in the same clothes from earlier, so Kurt's pretty certain that he didn't mean to fall asleep slumped on the floor, only he's not really sure what Blaine was doing on the floor in the first place. Kurt can make out the way his chest seems to be moving in over-time, frantic breathes rushing out of his body and his face is scrunched together, his lips forming a tight frown even as he lets out a small whimper. He's pretty sure he can faintly see the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Even in his sleep Blaine looks kind of terrified.

Finn stand just over Kurt's shoulder, peering down at Blaine's sleeping form. "Do you think he's having a nightmare?"

Kurt turns to stare disbelieving at Finn, arching an eyebrow because seriously, what does he think Blaine is doing?

"Right," Finn nods, sudden and sure. "He's having a nightmare." He glances back down at Blaine before moving towards him.

"What are you doing," Kurt asks, as Finn crouches down until he's mostly level with Blaine.

"I'm gonna wake him up. He can't have a nightmare if he's awake so," He shrugs, and reaches out to shove on Blaine's shoulder. "Hey man." It turns out to not be Finn's brightest move because he only succeeds in startling them all. Blaine jerks awake, a cry of "Stop" resonating sharply throughout the room, and Finn jumps in surprise and lets out his own startled yelp. Only that's not the worst of it, because at some point in both of their quick movements of trying to get away from each other, Blaine slams himself back against the wall as his feet kick outward and he manages to kick Finn right in the knee. Hard.

"Oh my god Finn," Kurt rushes over to where Finn is now collapsed on the floor and groaning. Blaine is still sitting on the floor looking shocked and blinking still somewhat sleepily between the two of them.

"Ow, ow, he has some kick."

"What is going on in here?" Carole and Burt both come bursting into the room a moment later.

Kurt has to hold back simultaneous laughter and the desire to roll his eyes because he's already assessed that Finn is okay, there's no immediate bruising or swelling so he's sure he will be just fine, but Finn is now laying on the floor holding his knee, and letting out pitiful groans.

"He's fine, Blaine didn't even kick him that hard" Kurt says lightly, looking over to Blaine to see if he also finds Finn's carrying on slightly amusing, but oh to the contrary; Blaine looks on the verge of a panic attack. He eyes widen to impossibly large levels at Kurt's words, shock wearing off as he suddenly scrambles to his feet. His voice is a little ragged as he start repeating "oh god, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to do that" and he'll rock a step towards Finn like he wants to make sure he's okay, wants to fix whatever he did wrong, but he always backs up a step a second later like he is unsure if he's just going to make it worse.

Carole enters the room swiftly, going straight to Finn and kneeling in front off him. She's calm though, glancing over at Blaine and then up to Kurt looking for answers. "What do you mean Blaine kicked him?" Her voice isn't accusatory, or even slightly angry, just completely calm and questioning - an open invitation to give them a chance to explain the whole story. But it apparently doesn't sound that way to Blaine, who practically cries out "I didn't mean to" in the loudest tone Kurt has heard him use since he's gotten here. It's usually a quiet murmur of sound, soft and utterly unsure, but instead now his tone sounds horribly close to Blaine full out panicking as he raises a hand, a slightly shaking hand from what Kurt can tell, to run through his hair.

Kurt watches him carefully for another moment, before he turns back to Carole, trying to keep his own voice as light and calm as hers. He's not sure why Blaine is freaking out, it really was just an accident. They were the ones that entered into his room unannounced in the first place, but he hopes taking the cue from Carole will help.

"Blaine didn't mean to, honest. He must have been having a nightmare, Finn and I heard him screaming," he pauses to sneak another glance at Blaine, who is suddenly flushing and looking away, the only confirmation Kurt needs that it was a bad dream. "Finn was going to wake him up but I think it just scared him more and he accidentally kicked Finn."

"I'm so sorr—"

"Blaine." His father's voice, and Kurt looks up to see him standing close to Blaine now, arm hovering upwards looking like he is about to raise it to squeeze Blaine's shoulder in a comforting gesture Kurt is completely familiar with, because how many time has he felt the firm grip of his father's hand pulling him back together when he feels like falling apart. But when Blaine turns to meet Burt's eyes, his father seems to deflate slightly, lowering his arm and instead talking gently. "It wasn't your fault kid, it was just an accident right?" Kurt wonders if his father feels as awkward about the situation as his does, if he's left feeling confused as to what to do to help Blaine. As to why it seems so hard to help Blaine at all.

"You were jus—," his pauses looking around the room. "Why were you on the floor?" Both Carole and Burt are looking at the still made bed now, before turning back to Blaine.

Blaine turns a little pinker as he nods. "I, um. I fell asleep there." He shrugs gently, like it's no big deal to have fallen asleep on the floor instead of in a bed. He lifts his gaze up from the floor, and it connects briefly with Kurt's before Blaine is looking away again, clearing his throat and bringing a hand to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Finn has stopped his unnecessary writhing on the floor now, and Kurt helps him stand back onto his feet.

"You okay now honey?" Carole asks Finn, who nods a little pitifully. Kurt isn't sure if he's trying to play the injured card, or if he's just embarrassed that he acted like a big baby. Knowing Finn it's probably the former, even though Kurt thinks it should be the latter.

"Still hurts a little," Finn mumbles, and yep definitely milking it. Carole locks eyes with Kurt, rolling her own slightly upward as the edges of her mouth quirk upwards. She has Finn's number down as well. "Why don't you boys head back to bed now, I'll come check on you in a minute Finn. And Blaine let's get you into bed too"

Kurt turns to follow Finn out the door, who is, of course, limping his way out. Kurt throws his hands up slightly in exasperation, "Seriously Finn?"

His father chuckles lightly before placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze as he walks past. "Night bud."

It only serves to remind Kurt of how he almost, but didn't do that for Blaine. Kurt looks over his shoulder one last time at Blaine, who is now slowly pulling the comforter of his bed down with a shaky hand, with Carole standing close by to help rearrange pillows.

Kurt climbs back into bed, tossing and turning for a few moments. Sleep doesn't come easily. He feels wired now, like he's waiting for the moment to hear Blaine's desperate screams again. He wonders if Blaine went right back to sleep, or if he's sitting in his own bed afraid to close his eyes.

Kurt remembers nightmares from when he was little and scared, rushing to his dad's room to wake him up, needing comfort and the presence of someone who loved him. Those dreams were filled with monsters under his bed, and scary creatures chasing him around a dark, creepy place. He remembers a different kind of nightmare from the during the time his father was in the hospital and he would finally fall asleep after hours of restless tossing and turning, only to be awaken an hour later drenched in sweat and sure that his father has passed during his slumber. Those dreams were filled with fears of loss and of being left completely alone, which were just as scary as the creatures his eight-year-old mind could come up with. He wonders which type of nightmare Blaine was having, which variety of monster his mind was conjuring up for him.

Not for the first time since he met Blaine does he desperately wish to know more of his story.

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><p><strong>Next up: An awkward breakfast, and New Year's Eve. : )<strong>

**Oh, and in case anyone was wondering where the titles to the chapter come from – they are all names of songs I wither drew inspiration from, or felt fit the particular chapter. They are all amazing songs so you should check them out :p**

**Tear Down the House- The Avett Brothers**

**Head full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise- The Avett Brothers**

**Incomplete and Insecure- The Avett Brothers**

**After the Storm- Mumford & Sons**

**Thistle and Weeds- Mumford & Sons**

**Night Terror- Laura Marling**


	10. Lover of the Light, Part A

**Chapter: Lover of the Light Part A**

**Warnings: Angst and a little bit of violence (in a dream)**

**Author's Note: Just for a little clarification, the beginning part is Blaine's dream from the night before.**

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><p><em>Blaine is running as fast as he possibly can, even as he is tripping over rocks and tree roots in the dark and cutting up his bare feet. He needs to keeping moving. He glances back over his shoulder, but he still sees no sign of his father anywhere amidst the trees. If he keeps running fast enough maybe he can get away. For good. <em>

_The only problem is that one moment he's running with the ground laid out all before him - no end in sight- and then at the next moment he's realizing a second too late that the ground suddenly drops off ahead of him. And that he's nearing the ledge way too rapidly._

_Blaine skitters to the edge, grabbing onto to something at the last possible instant to stop himself from tumbling over. A few small pebbles aren't as lucky, losing their battle to stay on top, and they bounce over the edge. He never hears them hit the bottom. _

_He peeks over slowly, gripping the - well, what appears to be some sort of railing that he had managed to grab onto. As he looks down he realizes that he's standing atop a staircase. It's long and narrow. A winding one too - winding all the way down, down an outrageous number of flights. He must be at least fifty stories up. No more, definitely more. There quite possibly may not even be a bottom from the looks of it._

_He wants to run down them, he really does. He knows that it's his only chance to safety, but something makes his feet feel paralyzed as he looks at the stairs below. He's up too high. And the staircase seems too narrow, Blaine isn't even sure if he will fit - one false step and he will surely lose his footing. _

_But he can't go backwards either; his father is still somewhere back there and Blaine needs to keep moving before he catches him. _

_Too late. _

_His father appears seemingly out of nowhere, already a few feet behind him when Blaine turns to look back in the direction from which he just ran. _

"_Blaine, Blaine, Blaine" he tsks, edging his way closer. _

_Blaine tries to step backwards away from him, but his foot only lands on air and he has to struggle to pull himself upright as his body threatens to topple back. Some more pebbles take the downfall from his misstep. _

_Run. He tries to will himself to move. Go down the steps. _

_But he can't. _

"_Why did you do this Blaine? Why did you start all this?" _

"_I didn't, I swear!" He yells, but the words sound too quiet, like he's trying to speak through air that is so dense it muffles the sound. Smoke, he realizes with a start, god there's smoke everywhere. Where did it come from? It's only a second before he's nearly doubled over from coughing, the air too thick for him to breathe properly. _

_Run, Blaine run. _

_His father is in front of him now; Blaine lets out a little whimper. He's so scared his hand is making the banister underneath his fingertips rattle as his whole body shakes. Why didn't he keep going when he had the chance? _

"_You did this. You made this mess!" His father gestures grandly behind them, and a fire abruptly roars all around, springing up under the man's movement like it's controlled under his hand. _

"_No, no." Blaine shakes his head. "I didn't do this."_

"_Don't lie to me!" His father's hands wrap tightly around his neck, threatening to give him that last little push that will send him teetering over the edge. _

_Blaine cries out, "Please. Please."_

"_Let's see, which will it be? Shall we go down?" He pushes at Blaine until he is nearly hanging over the edge, and Blaine barely has time to tighten his grip on the rail. "Or shall we go back into the flames?" The fire crackles louder, looming closer with rapid speed. "Maybe both?" Blaine lets out an agonized scream as the metal rail under his fingers turns to a burning blaze. _

_He's not going to be able to hold on for much longer. _

"_Why do you always ruin everything, Blaine?" the words are whispered right into his ear, a low hollow mocking sound. "Why do you force me to do this to you? You never give me any other option."_

_His father's grip tightens around his throat again, and Blaine tries to let out another yell but it's impossible. One of the hands moves suddenly, shoving at his shoulder trying to knock his grip off the banister. Maybe if Blaine can push him away he'd be able to escape. He kicks at him with all his might, screaming "Stop!"_

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><p>It's not that Blaine is hiding away in his room, it's just that - well he's hiding away in his room. He has reasons though, like the fact that he is still exhausted, not really having been able to sleep after everyone left his room the night before to climb back into their own beds and he's just hoping for a little more shuteye. At least he tries to convince himself that that is his main reason, and that he's not hiding away up here in order to never have to face the Hummels again.<p>

He's never really had to deal with this before, with anyone knowing about the nights that were plagued with his un-fought demons keeping him from a restful night of sleep. If his father ever heard one of Blaine's nightmares in the middle of the night he never said anything about it. He certainly never came into Blaine's room to wake him up or to check on him. Blaine was always able to get up the next morning pretending like he didn't wake up drenched in sweat and trembling in the middle of the night; he got to spend the day in denial that it ever happened even as he usually still saw the images replaying in his mind every time he closed his eyes. But here? Now with these people? They got to see him at one of his most embarrassing moments. And he had been found sleeping on the _floor_ of all places, not even in the bed like a normal person. They must think he's some type of freak now.

He groans shoving his face into his pillow because not only did he act out his nightmare for the entire house to hear, but he also managed to kick Finn in the process. How exactly is he ever going to face them again? He wonders if Finn is mad at him. Should he be expecting some form of payback, some type of eye-for-an-eye thing? Or worse.

Which is why he thinks it is the best option for him to stay in his room for a little while longer. Possibly forever.

In reality though, his stomach starts growling half an hour later - horrible loud, threatening to eat itself types of noises - and it pulls Blaine back from the edges of unconsciousness. Blaine hasn't really eaten a proper meal in days; especially since last night when he finally felt up to it he only managed a few bites before he ran up to his room. To hide. He guesses this is going to be a new thing now.

Blaine rolls onto his back. Maybe he could wait just a little bit longer. Maybe he could make it till dinnertime. His hand falls onto his stomach, fingers digging in slightly to feel the layers of bandages still hidden underneath his t-shirt as his stomach gives another loud grumble. He's getting to the point where he feels kind of ill from not eating, a headache forming behind his eyes, and his stomach cramping as he swears its trying to cave in on itself.

To make the whole situation even worse, during all of his moving around last night he succeeded in agitating his ribs even more. This morning Blaine feels a sharp, stabbing pain every time he tries to move. It's uncomfortable to even lay down at this point. The worst part is that he isn't even sure where his pain medication ended up after he and Jen arrived from the hospital.

The small digital clock on his desk tells him that it's almost ten-thirty. What are the odds that no one is up yet? There is the possibility that Carole and Burt both had to go to work this morning, which might mean that they were already up and out the door long before Blaine even woke up. Everything sounds pretty still and quiet in the house, maybe Finn and Kurt are still asleep - they are on winter break after all so they could have opted to sleep in as many days as possible.

He's still debating when he hears a door open and the sound of feet padding across the floor. Kurt, judging by the direction the sound is coming from. He listens to the door of what he assumes is the bathroom close, followed by the sound of the shower starting up a few moments later. If he hurries he could probably fix himself something to eat and be back in his bedroom before Kurt even gets out of the shower.

The two flaws in his plan hit him when he reaches the middle of the staircase. He's not sure what he's allowed to eat, or make for that matter, and he also doesn't know if he's allowed to eat in his room. They haven't exactly gone over the house rules yet, and he doesn't want to tread over some unknown boundary that might get him into trouble.

It's a half second debate before there's another sharp pain in his stomach, letting him know that he has to eat something at this very moment otherwise his stomach might literally try to start eating itself. Anything, he's not too picky, even if he could just find an apple or a piece of bread. He needs to eat something if he wants to be able to take some medication anyway. He still feels a little bad about it, but he can apologize later.

He wanders into the kitchen cautiously, almost as if he is waiting for someone to pop out of the shadows and tell him he's not supposed to be in there. Geez, he really does feel like a thief in the night. Which is why when Carole's voice suddenly calls his name from somewhere out of view he jumps nearly three feet in the air, his hand coming to land over his quickly beating heart as he turns to find her voice.

She and Burt are sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading sections of the newspaper. He hadn't noticed them there. Both of them are eyeing him somewhat carefully as he makes his way over to the table, pulling out a chair and taking a seat after Carole nods approvingly at him.

"You're the first of the boys to finally get out of bed and face the morning," Burt grins at him before lifting his mug to take a sip, the smell of fresh coffee drifting over to Blaine and god does that smell good. "Carole and I had a bet going to see who would wake get up first. My money was on Kurt since he's usually up, dressed and making breakfast before Finn even thinks about rolling out of bed."

Blaine's stomach lets out a loud noise, rumbling for all to hear at the mention of food. Blaine feels his cheeks heat slightly, as he wraps one arm loosely over his stomach. Carole lets out a small laugh, "Ah, hunger, should have guessed that would have come into play, Burt. It's the only thing that gets Finn out of bed in the morning too."

She turns to Blaine, the happy smile still lighting up her face. "So Blaine, what do you usually like to eat for breakfast?"

"Oh, I was just gonna grab some cereal or something. If you have any." He makes some vague gesture to the kitchen, hoping he isn't making a complete fool of himself.

"We've got plenty. Pretty sure we have enough variety to shelf a whole aisle at the supermarket since no one here can agree on which type is the best." Carole pauses, thinking and looks to Burt as she starts counting off brands on the tips of her fingers. "We've got Cap'n Crunch, Frosted Flakes, and Cinnamon Toast Crunch courtesy of Finn. We also have the Special K cereal with the strawberries in it."

"That Fiber One stuff that Kurt insists on making me eat," Burt adds in with fake groan of protest.

"And multigrain Cheerios. Hm," she looks back over to Burt. "It seems like most of the cereal comes from Finn."

"Who then winds up eating all of ours anyway," Burt turns back to him with a small chuckle. "I am also known to make a mean batch of pancakes if you're interested. Unfortunately, we aren't allowed to have any real bacon in the house anymore, but I think we do have some turkey bacon. You almost can't tell the difference."

"Or eggs, we have tons of eggs," Carole adds. "And bread for French toast, or just plain toast even."

They both pause in their listing off of breakfast possibilities giving him a chance to decide, and oh god Blaine has never felt more overwhelmed by the idea of breakfast; his usually consists of whatever fruit they have in the house and some cereal, or a Poptart if he is running late and doesn't have time to sit down to eat. Better just stick to what he knows.

"Cereal is fine. Really," he adds when they both look like they might protest again. "It's usually what I have for breakfast anyway."

"Well which would you like, I can go grab you a bowl and some milk—"

"I can get it," Blaine speaks up, hurriedly. He doesn't want Carole to feel like she has to go out of her way to do stuff for him. He's perfectly capable of making himself something to eat; he's been doing it for years. He also doesn't want her to feel like he is just shooting down her help either so he adds, "It's fine, you should enjoy your own breakfast."

Her and Burt share a look for a moment, and Blaine wonders what they are communicating between each other just by a couple of looks. He wonders how much of it has to do with him. But Carole turns back to him with a smile – smaller than before but still present nonetheless- on her face, "Thank you, Blaine, that is very sweet. Bowls are in the top cupboard by the stove, and all the cereal is in the pantry."

He nods getting up, and heading back into the kitchen. He opens the door to the pantry, and surveys his options again. He looks between the Cap'n Crunch, the Frosted Flakes, and the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. While those are all usually tasty, Carole had said that they were all of Finn's favorites so he quickly rules them out. No way is he going to chance making Finn even angrier by eating some of his favorite cereal. His eyes catch on the Cheerios box. They are always a safe option when it comes to cereal, always good and they are even multigrain so that's a healthy choice too. It's a win-win really; he can avoid eating Finn's food while digesting something that tastes good and is good for him as well. He pulls out the box and places it on the small island that sits in the middle of the kitchen while he goes to pull out a bowl and a spoon.

His head is in the fridge searching for milk as he is mentally debating calling out to Carole to ask if he can have one of the bananas that he saw in a bowl on the counter, when he hears Kurt's voice suddenly rings out in the kitchen.

"Did Finn eat all of my Cheerios again? I will murder him this time, or at least force him to sit through _Dreamgirls_ again," he adds the last part under his breath.

Shit. Blaine tries to pull out of the fridge quickly so that he can explain that he had no clue he was about to eat Kurt's breakfast, but he lifts up too fast and bangs his head on a shelf. "Ow." That's twice now in less than twelve hours.

He rubs at his head sheepishly for a minute, avoiding Kurt's gaze that he knows has to be focused on him now that he has made a complete fool of himself yet again. But he can do this, all he has to do is simply explain that he didn't realize that those were Kurt's Cheerios, and just offer an apology. Blaine's sure he won't be mad. Hopefully.

He decides to look up at Kurt before he starts speaking, to properly apologize, but that turns out to be a big mistake because _oh._

Kurt is already dressed for the day, in a pair of tight dark wash jeans that hug his hips very nicely, and a light gray collared shirt - buttoned all the way up. He has a darker gray sweater over it, with the first two buttons that start right in the middle of his chest done up, but the rest have been left open allowing the sides to fan their way down to hit right at his hips. The way he has it buttoned allows for the sweater to pull tightly across his chest, accentuating his broad shoulders. Kurt definitely know how to dress, and Blaine realizes he is standing there horribly awkwardly with one hand still tangled in his hair, and the other clutching the carton of milk as he stares quite noticeably at Kurt.

"'Oh' what?" Kurt asks as he looks skeptically down at his outfit, like he's trying to figure out what is possibly wrong with it. Great. Not only has he been caught staring, but he also can't seem to keep his exclamatives to himself.

"Ugh, nothing." He quickly tries to backtrack. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was about to eat your cereal." He picks up the box and holds it out towards Kurt. "Here, I'll find something else."

"Oh." Kurt stares at the outstretched box before he holds his hands up in protest. "No, its okay, you can-" but now Blaine is beyond embarrassed and stepping closer in complete panic mode because how does he keep succeeding in messing everything up?

"No," he thrusts the box at Kurt. "I didn't realize it was yours, I'd rather just eat something else."

Kurt takes it, but not before he throws him a really weird look, like he's not quite sure what Blaine's problem is. And quite frankly, as Blaine pulls down the box of Fiber One and fills it into a bowl, he's not quite sure what his problem is either.

(_"Why did you do this Blaine? Why did you start all this?)_

"Oh Cheerios! Dude leave those out."

"Finn, you have like three boxes of cereal in there. Eat one of your own."

"But yours taste better."

"I thought mine were the 'sucky healthy ones.'" Kurt jibs, adding little air quotes around the words.

"Well, they sort of are, but if you add some sugar to them they taste even better."

"Finn, I'm pretty sure that defeats the whole purpose."

"But it's good," Finn shrugs, snatching the box away from Kurt, who was just reaching to put it back on the top shelf, and then going to fill up his bowl.

Blaine leaves them bickering, and brings his bowl to the table, sitting in the same spot he took last night at dinner. He just has to focus on eating and then he can escape back to his room.

Kurt strolls in a few minutes after him, juggling a glass of juice and his bowl of cereal as he walks over to the table to place them down. He winds up sitting across from Blaine, since Carole is currently sitting in the seat he had occupied last night. Blaine fights the urge to look up and watch as he stretches across the table for a napkin.

Finn comes in with an armful of things - his bowl of cereal, the milk jug, chocolate syrup, a glass, and he has a spoon hanging from his mouth. He plops everything onto the table, the glass almost rolling off before Burt catches it. Finn mumbles a 'thanks' around the spoon before pulling out his seat, and why didn't Blaine think about seating arrangements earlier? He should have taken Carole's empty spot at the head of the table, because sitting here means that Finn is going to sit next to him. Finn seems to realize it at the same moment cause he pauses after he pulls out his seat, and Blaine sees him glance his way out of the corner of his eye. He can practically feel the tension building between them.

Blaine is expecting retaliation - he can picture Finn maybe leaning over to dumb Blaine's bowl of cereal over, or even a more physical punch in the leg, or maybe even some name-calling. A part of him is waiting on baited breathe for Finn to start up an argument trying to convince Carole and Burt that Blaine has to leave. But nothing happens, and Blaine never expected that; he never let even the smallest idea of the possibility that Finn might just let it go enter to his mind, because usually when he does something wrong there's someone there to make sure he knows it, to make sure he has some sort of repercussion.

_(Why do you force me to do this to you? You never give me any other option.")_

All Finn does, however, is slowly lower himself into his chair, avoiding looking at Blaine and even angling himself - his legs particularly - away from Blaine. This turn of events completely confuse Blaine.

The air is heavy again, an awkward silence threatening to sweep into the air, and Blaine can still practically feel the tension radiating off of Finn next to him. Maybe he hasn't let it completely go; maybe he's just waiting for a time when his mom isn't sitting across the table from him to get back at Blaine.

There's a beeping sound that makes Blaine jump a little in his seat, sloshing the milk in his bowl a so that it threatens to fly out of the side. He glances up in time to see Kurt staring down at his phone with a small smile gracing his lips as he reads a text message and types out a reply.

"So boys," Burt says, looking over the top of the paper he is reading. "What are the plans for tonight? Who's going where?"

Finn's stirring his chocolate milk as he answers, "Most of the guys are going to Artie's for videogames. I was gonna go."

Burt nods, and turns to Kurt. "What about you kiddo? You hanging with Mercedes and Tina or something?"

"Well, Tina is with Mike tonight some sort of romantic date, but actually Mercedes, Rachel and I were going to go to dinner and then back to Mercedes' for some movies."

"Alright well since it's New Year's Eve-"

Blaine's head snaps up. Is it really New Year's Eve already? In a way, it feels like Christmas was just yesterday, but on the other hand as he thinks back on all that has happened in the past few days, he feels like the last time he was at home was a million years ago. He never knew it was going to be his last time there, the last time to see those walls or to be in the comfort of his own room.

"-I'll let your curfew extend to 1:00 am."

"Sweet!"

"But no funny business, you two hear me? I want you home at one no later, and I expect a phone call or text at some point during the night."

"Thanks dad."

"You know," Finn says as he swirls his spoon around before looking over at Kurt. "We should have had one big New Year's Eve party, had the whole club over and everything."

"Yes, because that it is exactly what I need, a night spent trying to contain the entire glee club under my roof for a extended period of time."

Blaine looks up to stare at Kurt, because did he just say…"You're in glee club?" the question rolls off his tongue quickly, disbelief and surprise coloring his tone. Although, he doesn't know why; he's heard Kurt sing already and his voice is wonderful, he should have guessed that Kurt liked music. But Blaine knows he's more surprised because he would never dare to join his school's glee club, it would never be something his father would have approved of.

Both Finn and Kurt are looking at Blaine, and it takes him a minute to realize how that must have come across to them, like he was questioning their sanity for even joining such a club. It came off more like he was shocked that someone would choose to sing in a school club and less like he was just amazed that they were able to join something like glee. Which is really what he is amazed at, because he could never picture telling his father that he was going to join his school's musical choir. Well, actually he could imagine it, and he knew exactly how the discussion would end and it wasn't with his father standing proudly clapping in the crowd as they finished a performance. No, the image was more of his father beating the crap out of him for trying to do more 'gay things'.

Even if the thought of joining a club where all the members shared his passion for music and singing sounded extremely inviting, it wasn't ever a risk he was willing to take, especially not at school where the information could travel back to his father so easily.

But here sat both Finn and Kurt, discussing glee club openly in front of their parents like it was perfectly normal. It is perfectly normal for them he realizes with a little pang in his heart. There is no reason for them to be afraid.

Blaine wants to explain it to them, especially after he realizes how they both must have taken his tone judging by their looks. He wants to say that he would thinks it's amazing that they are both in glee. He wants to ask them about music, and how they do at competitions. He wants to ask if they prefer to sing things from the top forty charts, or if they prefer the classic standards. He doesn't really get a chance before Kurt is answering him, looking slightly affronted at Blaine's reaction.

"Yes," Kurt says slowing, drawing the word out, and he's giving Blaine this look that is kind of harsh. Blaine gives in to the urge to look away. "So is Finn," he adds coldly, and it's almost like he is trying to justify involvement in the club.

Blaine coils back slightly not liking the underlying haughtiness that lies in Kurt's tone. Not that he blames him though; Blaine actually feels like a jerk because he's pretty sure that he has managed to insult Kurt twice already - without meaning to of course - but he's sure that doesn't really help matters much from Kurt's perspective.

He falls silent, the questions about glee club and music in general dying on his lips. He doesn't want to make this morning even worse. He already ruined dinner last night, then everyone's sleep, and now he's already brought a screeching halt to their wonderful breakfast.

_(Why do you always ruin everything, Blaine?)_

Finn luckily, who doesn't seem to pick up the underlying tension still drifting in the room, continues his conversation with Kurt like they were never interrupted.

"Since when are you and Rachel even friends? I thought you two hated each other."

Kurt doesn't answer right away, and Blaine thinks he can still feel his cold gaze penetrating him before he hears Kurt sigh and finally say, "Well, she recently finally admitted that I am the only true competition she has in glee club, and we sort of made a truce to stop fighting about it so much and just to respect that we are both equally talented. And she just seems less annoying than usual this year, she's actually been pretty nice, if you ignore the whole Sunshine debacle in the beginning of the year. That doesn't mean there still aren't times I want to kill her, however, because trust me I do. There's only so much Rachel Berry a person can take."

"It's just weird. I mean now that we broke up and all."

"Finn," Kurt says quietly, "You broke up with her and while I admit she made some bad choices that led to your ultimate decision, she's still hurting and going through a really rough time. She can really use a friend, and I can understand that."

Blaine thinks he can feel Kurt's eyes him again now as the boy's voice goes soft on his last sentence, but he doesn't dare look up to see. Blaine was able to finish his bowl of his increasingly soggy cereal as they talked and he rises to bring his bowl to the sink and wash it out just as Finn says, "It's still weird to me."

He wants to just disappear quietly, but he figures Carole and Burt might expect him to at least acknowledge that he is going back upstairs so he slips back past the table and tells Carole that he will be in his room.

"Are you sure you don't want to hang out for a little while longer, sweetie?"

He shakes his head and chances a look in the direction of the boys as he passes. Kurt is looking towards him, with a look that Blaine can't even begin to place on his face. He looks as if he wants to say something to him but he never does. Blaine is just glad he doesn't look angry anymore.

Maybe they are all just too on edge from the new situation and overreacting to each and every little word or tone. Maybe this just needs time.

Blaine falls into the pillows on his bed letting out a long frustrated sigh. He sure hopes so because the last thing he wants is for these people to hate him.

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><p><strong>The rest of New Year's Eve will come soon, it was starting to get really long. And please don't be mad at Kurt for his reaction at the table, it will be explained in the next chapter. Thank you all again for your lovely support :D <strong>


	11. Lover of the Light, Part B

**Lover of the Light, Part B**

**Oh my god, my lovely readers I can't even explain how sorry I am that this story hasn't been updated in months. Life has been so crazy lately, and I just have trouble finding time to write. **

**This is a short update, there's still more New Year's Eve to come, but I wanted to get this out since it has been forever since I updated.**

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><p>It's not until almost an hour later that he realizes he forgot the main reason he went downstairs in the first place. In all of his haste to get away from the breakfast table he had completely forgotten to find his medication.<p>

It's the dull ache in his body that reminds him of this fact, as it becomes increasingly more present with each passing minute making him fidget uncomfortably on his bed. He can't seem to find any position that doesn't pull on the sore muscles in his body. It's not just his ribs anymore; his entire body aches all the way from the bottom of his feet up to the cut on his forehead, which has started to throb now. Everything hurts. It's a losing battle trying to find some relief since every time he moves (or rather every time he breathes), he makes the pain flare up even more intensely.

He debates going back downstairs, but the echoes of Kurt's voice is still floating around in his head, and so is the memory of awkwardly sitting next to Finn at the table. It keeps him rooted to his bed. He really doesn't want to bother them again.

So instead he lays flat on his back, trying not to move or breath too deeply. He tries to keep himself from focusing on the pain by reading the next few chapters in _Oliver Twist_, but pretty soon that proves to be an insufficient distraction. He sighs, abandoning the book on his nightstand and lets his mind drift. Christmas songs pop into his head and he starts singing them in his mind, humming lightly every now and then. The familiarity of the Christmas classics soothes him even though Christmas has been over for days now. Six days in fact.

Six days since his life was basically turned upside down.

There is a knock on the door, light and hesitant, that makes him pause in his ironic (well, at least in his mind) rendition of "I'll Be Home for Christmas."

What if it's Burt coming to tell him that they'll be taking him to the shelter after all? Maybe he was too quick to believe that everything was going to be okay.

He sits up quickly, the thought making him forget about his injuries-which proves to be a big mistake as his vision goes blurry and he has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out.

The knock sounds again, louder this time – three swift raps to his door.

Blaine is able to maneuver himself to a sitting position, but knows that there's no possible way he's going to make it to the door.

Another three knocks.

"Uh, come in."

Finn has to be the last person he expected to poke his head through the opening door. The sight makes Blaine's stomach curl in the most unpleasant way. He had been so horribly wrong to believe that Finn might just let it go. Here is Finn's perfect opportunity, no parents around to stop him now; if they overheard anything Finn could easily say that Blaine started it. Who would believe otherwise? Blaine let his guard down, and now he couldn't even defend himself if he wanted to.

If Finn's here for retaliation than he's just going to have to sit and take it. Which maybe is better after all, he's learned that if he stays quiet then it's usually over faster.

Finn comes in and closes the door behind him. Blaine's head falls down to stare hopelessly at Finn's feet, and his fingers reach out to tangle in the sheets, gripping tightly and looking for something to ground him as this happens.

Hopefully, it will all be over soon.

Finn's feet shuffle his weight awkwardly, but he doesn't make a move to come towards Blaine. The tension is rising between them again, he's certain that they both feel it.

"Um hey," Finn says after a couple of moments of complete silence. "I just want to," Finn does step closer then and Blaine feels himself tensing, waiting for a blow of some kind, whether it be yelling or a kick in the gut.

Finn's voice tapers out, never completing his sentence. The silence settles again, and Blaine feels the tension kick up another 10 watts. What is he waiting for? He chances a quick look up to Finn's face; he's just staring at him with a befuddled expression. His eyes flick away when he realizes that Blaine caught him staring. Blaine lowers his own gaze back shamefully, and fidgets again. He breathes in sharply at the movement, hoping that Finn doesn't notice. Luckily his attention seems to have caught something else in the room.

"Oh hey "Oliver Twist!" Finn exclaims, pointing a finger towards the book Blaine had left abandoned on the table, face down and opened to his last page.

Blaine turns to stare at it, confused by Finn's outburst.

"I think I'm supposed to be reading that for English class."

Blaine closes his eyes momentarily. Of course the book just so happens to be Finn's; why does this keep happening to him?

"I..I just found it on the bookshelf in here, you can have it back." He moves to grab it, but Finn lets out a little breath of laughter that makes Blaine pause and turn to look back at him warily.

"Nah man, you seem to be enjoying it and I'll just probably wind up using Wikipedia or Sparknotes or something. Or hey isn't there a movie?"

Yes, Blaine answers in his mind. Several movies, a couple of tv series, and even a musical.

Instead he just says, "Uh I think."

Finn nods like that settles it. "I'll probably just watch that with Puck or something, just don't tell my mom."

Blaine nods.

"Oh which reminds me about why I came up here in the first place. I wanted to talk to you about something. First about last night-"

Oh god, he knew this was coming. He feels the fluttery feeling of panic rising, starting deep in the pit of his stomach, making it churn as a wave of nausea sweeps over him. Fear. The feeling is so familiar Blaine vaguely wonders why he isn't more immune to it, why he doesn't just go numb by now. But instead he feels the slow build of emotion, the slight quickening to his pulse and the tightness latching onto his chest.

He's only half aware of the fact that he's tuning Finn out. He can't hear anything outside the voices in his head, the ones that like his father, cold and detached. _("__That's all your good for isn't it Blaine, for fucking things up. For breaking things. For ruining everything with your stupid mistakes.")_ He keeps replaying last night over in his mind—the moment he finally drifted out of his sleepy stupor to connect the pieces that he was the reason Finn was lying on the floor. The absolute dread he felt at that moment.

He doesn't know why he's panicking; he knew all along that this was bound to happen. If he were truly honest with himself he could admit that he had been waiting on baited breath for the moment Finn chose to retaliate.

Or maybe for Burt too.

The fearful feeling rises quickly through his body on that last thought, the image of Burt and Finn towering over him- punching him, kicking him, calling him worthless. His heart is clamping shut, and he's unable to explain why the image in his head hurts so much. His lungs feel like they won't expand, so he sucks in a sharp breath, forcing them to inflate. But all it brings is more pain.

"…so we're just going to be hanging out and playing games all night if you want…Blaine. Dude you okay?"

Finn steps closer, encroaching into Blaine's personal space and Blaine jerks away when he feels him right next to him.

His arms wrap around his middle, in equal parts to try to ease the pain and to defend his small frame. Nausea crashes over him again and he gags a little from the intense pain.

"Blaine? You look a little green."

Blaine looks to Finn, who staring at him again, this time with wide eyes and…Blaine wants to let out a merciless laugh because he actually looks a tad concerned. Blaine reduced himself to a ball of nerves and nausea and Finn hasn't even done anything to him. He actually even looks like he might be nervous that something is wrong with Blaine.

But something is wrong with Blaine, that much he knows. And it's not something that anyone can help him with. He's just…a mess.

And now he's going to be sick and he can't even get up. He's going to ruin these people's nice room and their new bedspread (he can tell its new, can feel the stiffness still residing in the quilt from lack of use, can still see the faint crease imprints from the way it was folded up in the bag that won't iron out yet.)

"Should I get my mom?"

He's going to be sick with Finn in the room. He wishes he would go away. He wishes he were back locked away in the privacy of his own room, on his own bed in the old empty house where he could hide away from the rest of the world even if he couldn't escape the demons that lived inside it.

He wishes that they had just left him alone, that they never brought him here. He can't do this with them. He doesn't know _how _to do this. And he's just going to keep messing things up.

Deep down he knows that he doesn't deserve any of the kindness this family has shown him, even if they don't realize it yet. He should tell them, he should.

"Let me get my mom."

He tries to call after Finn- tell him not to- but he can barely even move without whimpering at this point and Finn is already out the door before he can even catch his breath.

"Mom," he hears Finn yell from the hallway. "Can you come up here?"

Blaine doesn't even think a minute passes before Finn's entering the room again this time with Carole following along. "I think he's uh sick or something."

Carole is crouching in front of him in an instant, hand reaching out and coming to rest gently on his knee. A barely there touch but Blaine still can't help the way his body tenses at it.

"Blaine?"

He focuses his breathing, not trusting his voice at the moment. At least the nausea has died down for the moment.

Finn hovers in the doorway before shuffling out of the room saying, "I'll um be in my room if you need me"

"Thanks, Finn," Carole replies before returning her attention to Blaine. She watches him intently, waiting for him to tell her what is wrong. But Blaine just…he's in so much pain and equally embarrassed at this point that he can't seem to find any words.

"Sweetie what's…" Her eyes drift to his arms, still protectively wrapped around his midsection and tightening slightly with each breath that is a little too ragged for his injuries' liking. Blaine isn't sure whether to be thankful for her acute observation skills, or a little wary of what that implies.

"Blaine when was the last time you took your pain medication?"

He bites his lip and looks away, shame replacing most of his emotions because he knows he messed up. He had listened to all the instructions they gave him when he was discharged, and had promised to follow them correctly but he still messed up. And Carole was one of his nurses. Would she be mad?

"I don't even know where they are," he admits in a whisper, and waits for her reaction. He's ready for her to tell him that it's his own fault that he's in this much pain, and that he screwed up. Maybe she'll make him live with the consequences. Maybe eventually he'll just pass out from the pain. Maybe it would be a blessing.

But Carole surprises him. (These people keep surprising him, and Blaine doesn't know yet if that's a good thing or not.)

"How about I go find them for you?" She doesn't even wait for answer, rising to her feet and exiting the room.

Blaine lets out a slow breath he didn't realize he was holding. His fingers clench into his shirt as he tries to breath normally.

Carole returns with a glass of water and the whole bottle of pills. Blaine can't even be embarrassed at the huge sigh of relief he lets out at the sight of them.

She pops the top and shakes two into the palm of her hand, holding them out for Blaine.

"Here take two. It might make you drowsy but I think we need to get the pain back under control."

He accepts graciously, placing them on his tongue before taking the glass of water from Carole's hands.

"Let's stand you up for a minute," she says, helping him rise from the bed. She walks him over to the little desk, letting him grasp the chair for support because his legs feel wobbly and like they might fold under him at any given moment. Carole returns to his bed to start rearranging pillows and blankets.

"It's probably best if you just lay down for a while, try not to move too much until the pain stops."

She comes back over to help him once again as he hobbles to the bed and climbs in. She starts messing with the blankets again once he's settled.

He wants to tell her to stop. That he's fine and doesn't need her to do this. The words are right on his lips, ready to explain that he's just a screw up and that he doesn't deserve this from her_ so please stop being so nice because its going to make it hurt so much worse when you realize I'm a screw up, and I don't think I can handle this going away when you hate me. _

He could just say leave me alone, but he doesn't…because every time that she does something like this he's reminded of the fact that it's been so long since someone had done something nice for him.

His mind travels, letting him imagine what it would be like if it were his own mother's hands tucking him in. He wonders if she ever had, if she had pulled the blankets up tight to make sure he stayed warm and safe in his own bed. When was the last time someone had done this for him? He's not even sure if there was a first. So he lets her continue being nice to him because he's selfish and he's not ready to let go just yet.

"Comfy?" She asks, gazing down at him with a warm smile.

Blaine swallows against the lump in his throat, and nods. "Thank you." They're the only words he can find.

"I'll come check on you in a little bit."

He knows he'll have to let go one day, as he feels Carole's presence pulling away to slip out of his room and back to the family she has waiting for her downstairs. She's not his mom. They're not his family to have. His life will be ripped apart again one day, forcing him away from the kindness of these people.

He hears the door click and closes his eyes, breathing in the unfamiliar smell of a bed and a room that feels nothing like home.

But he sure wishes it did.

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><p><strong>I know you probably want to kill me since there was no Kurt in this one, but he will be in the next chapter. I have the progression of their relationship very carefully mapped out, and Blaine needs to really hit his low point before things get better and Kurt will be one of the main reasons start to get better for Blaine. As you can see Blaine is already starting to really lose it, but he's still not actually dealing with it. And I promise, promise that it won't be another five months before the next part is up. I love this story and I hope to be able to update more regularly. <strong>

**And on a general note about Glee: I have not been watching season 4, and at the moment I do not plan on watching season 4. For me, Glee ended with season 3, therefore this story, and any other story I write, will be a season 4-free place. My characterizations of Kurt and Blaine, and their relationship will only be based on the first three seasons. (Also, I stopped watching for a reason, so please, please no spoilers in the reviews :} ) **

**Okay my little rant is over :D Thank you all again for your encouraging support, it really has been what keeps me motivated to write. More to come soon :)**


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